


TORN

by andachippedcup



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Action, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Oliver Queen, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Family, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prison, Protective Oliver, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 88,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup
Summary: With Cayden James freshly in custody, Felicity & Oliver feel like they've finally gotten a much deserved 'win'. But when the SCPD comes knocking on their door and arrests Felicity, it becomes quickly apparent that they're not out of the woods just yet. With Felicity in custody, Oliver is left on the outside to prove her innocence. And on the inside? Felicity must defend herself against a host of ill-intentioned foes - some in plain sight, and some in the shadows. Can Felicity stay alive long enough to be proven innocent? Or will Team Arrow be left permanently without its Overwatch?
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 364
Kudos: 360





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Thanks in advance for reading - I am very excited to share this story, the idea for which has been rattling around in my head for years now. This one is going to get a bit rough, so I encourage you to check the notes at the beginning of each chapter for warnings before diving in. 
> 
> Again, thanks so much for your support! I appreciate all of you who take the time to read, leave kudos, comments, etc. Your encouragement means a great deal to me and I hope you all know you rock!

↞ ↠

“Members of the Jury, have you reached a verdict?” 

Felicity felt her knees give a quiver and she forced herself to watch as the spokesperson for the jury rose, clasping a folded piece of paper in her hands. So much hinged on the words that that simple, folded piece of paper contained. Felicity wondered if the jury members felt the weight of that paper, of the lives it held within its contents. Had they seriously considered the facts as they deliberated? Had they considered the lives they held in the palms of their hands, with the power to destroy or to uplift?

As her eyes searched the jury members, Felicity couldn’t say with confidence one way or the other if that was true. And she genuinely couldn’t say one way or the other how the jury had voted.

“Yes your Honor, we have.”

Felicity’s world narrowed then; the noise of the courtroom, the faces of the jurors, the smell of Jean’s perfume as she stood alongside her; all of it just faded into _nothing._ None of it...none of it _mattered._ Felicity found herself retreating within herself, seeking the only comfort left to her in that moment.

She counted.

 _Three_

For almost as long as she could remember, Felicity had counted when her babbling got out of hand or when her anxiety was running away with her. Counting was how she slowed her mind down when everything seemed to be moving too fast. The simple act was often enough to give her the time and the space to breathe and collect herself. It often brought some measure of peace to her chaotic mind, or at the very least helped her to organize her thoughts into some semblance of coherence. Counting let her brain catch up to her mouth and put a stop to her characteristic flubs. But today she wasn’t counting to stop a ramble. A ramble was so _not_ the problem today.

_Two._

Today she could barely string syllables together to form words, let alone be coherent. And her thoughts were so fractured and jumbled that organizing them seemed impossible. Her own body seemed to be in rebellion against her as her heart jackhammered in her chest as if trying to burst right out of it, while her stomach twisted and roiled.

_One._

Her heart was the only thing she heard for what felt like a lifetime; time seemed to slow and she was aware only of the drumming sound, echoing loudly within the hallways of her mind. _Thump THUMP. Thump THUMP._

The problem with counting? There weren’t enough numbers in the world to help her now. She was too far gone, given over to fear and to panic, to anxiety and to sorrow. At the same time, she was numb to everything around her. Some part of her was already resigned that they would find her guilty, however wrongly, and part of her was still clinging desperately to hope that they would find her not guilty and validate the innocence that she knew was hers.

How had it all gone so, _so_ wrong? How was she standing here, in front of judge and jury, waiting to see if she would wind up in prison? How was she facing the very real possibility of being separated from her husband and son, possibly for _years and years?!_

Oh god. Oliver and William. 

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t look at them. She’d wanted to be strong and stoic for them, believing that if she held herself together, they would draw strength from her. But with the uncertainty of their future hanging over her head, Felicity found herself turning to look behind her. Both guys were standing as close behind her as they could get with haunted, terse expressions. Oliver had one hand on William’s shoulder and as she watched, his other hand reached forward and grabbed one of hers, his expression attempting to be encouraging but Felicity felt nothing resembling encouragement as she heard the Judge’s voice break through the sound of her galloping heart

“Members of the Jury, in the case of Smoak-Queen vs. Star City, what say you?” 

Felicity shivered, feeling suddenly cold as all the heat seemed to flee the courtroom, save for the tiny bit of warmth she derived from Oliver’s hand on hers. She watched as the jury’s spokeswoman unfolded the piece of paper, glancing at it only momentarily before she cleared her throat and her voice rang out stridently through the courtroom.

“Your Honor, the members of this Jury find the defendant, Felicity Smoak-Queen, _guilty_.”

Guilty.

One word. Two small, simple syllables. Yet it was this one, simple world that dropped into her life with all the devastation of a nuclear bomb.

The courtroom exploded with noise as the onlookers jeered or shouted in outrage and what seemed like a thousand camera flashes as the press documented it all. But Felicity was barely cognizant of any of it as she swayed on unsteady feet, the earlier quiver in her knees now a full blown tremor that threatened to send her to the floor in a graceless heap. Tears sprang to her eyes as she turned to look at Oliver and William, both standing so close behind her and yet, suddenly immeasurably far away. Beside them she could see John and Lyla, and other familiar faces in the other rows up the courtroom. But in that moment, Felicity had eyes only for her family.

She felt horror and fear warring within her as her stomach lurched. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, to run, to hide. But all she could do was try to keep her feet beneath her as Oliver tried to speak to her over the roar of the crowd. Distantly, she could hear the sound of the Judge banging his gavel and she felt Jean’s hand on her arm as she too tried to say something reassuring to her. But Felicity heard none of it because at that moment, her eyes were trained on William.

The moment she’d seen his face, Felicity had felt every bit of resilience within her crumble into dust. The boy looked as though he’d just been on the receiving end of a sucker punch to the gut and honestly, she knew precisely the feeling. In a daze, she moved forward, reaching over the railing between them and towards her son. 

Her son who she might not ever get to hold again. Oh god help her, how was she supposed to do this? 

Her arms encircled his scrawny, growing frame and she tried not to sob at the desperate way he clung to her, as though the strength of his embrace alone could keep her here with him forever. In that moment, she longed to tell him that if love alone could have kept her safe, his love would have been more than enough. 

_He_ had always been enough for her. She hadn’t had a clue how much she was capable of loving before Oliver. And then William had come and shown her a whole other side to love that she’d never known. Oliver’s love had opened up her heart but William’s love? William’s love had made her heart whole. 

“Felicity, you can’t go,” the boy pleaded brokenly, the agony in his voice making her throat momentarily close up. “You’re _innocent_!” William cried, his voice cracking on the word ‘innocent’.

“I know, I know. But I don’t have a choice, William. I have to go,” Felicity choked out through her tears, drawing back from him just enough to pass a hand over his face, brushing away his tears. She cupped his cheek while she stared into his eyes, swimming with still more tears. “But I promise you we will figure this out, okay?”

She held his face in her hands and he nodded through his tears and Felicity had to take a steadying breath as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head (a feat she could only barely pull off by standing on her tiptoes these days, the way he was growing) before turning her attention to Oliver.

_Oh God._

How was she supposed to say goodbye to him? They’d only just exchanged their wedding vows a few short months ago. How had they gone from ‘forever’ to ‘goodbye’? How was she supposed to envisage a future without him? A future where he woke up in their bed, _alone?_ Where he and their son carried on without her? How was she supposed to face each day knowing she wouldn’t see them? 

_How?_

As Oliver collected her into his arms across the wooden divide separating the defendant from the rest of the courtroom, Felicity felt the dam break within her and the tears began to fall. She’d meant to be strong - for him, for their son. But now, faced with what was possibly one of their last embraces _ever_? Felicity had nothing left in her but sorrow, it seemed. 

“We are going to fight this, you hear me?” Oliver growled softly in her ear as he continued to hold her tight against his chest. “I won’t let this stand.” 

“Oliver, we don’t have a choice,” Felicity reminded him in a hushed tone, looking up from her vantage cradled against his chest. She touched his chin lightly, her fingers dragging gently over the stubble she’d always loved while her thumb passed softly over his lips. Lips that she might not ever kiss again after today. 

“I don’t care what it takes, Felicity. You’re not spending the rest of your life in prison.” His body was shaking as he said the words and Felicity knew he was feeling all of this every bit as deeply as she was. Holding him by the chin, she angled his face down so that his eyes met hers and through the tears that threatened her, she offered him a watery smile.

“Kiss me, Oliver. J-Just… Just in case…” Felicity trailed off, watching mournfully as understanding dawned in his eyes. She didn’t need to say in case of what - she knew he understood. _In case they never got another chance._

Everything between them had just become painfully finite. This could be their last chance - to touch, to kiss, to embrace. To speak freely without glass between them. There was no telling what kind of sentence she would be hit with. There was no way of knowing if they would ever get the chance to speak together again without some prison guard listening in on them. 

Their moments together were numbered. And she, for one, didn’t want to waste a single second. 

His lips turned down at that, his brows sloping into a steep frown. “We are _not_ saying goodbye, Felicity,” he argued hoarsely. 

“But we are,” she whispered, her voice catching. 

“No.” Oliver shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line as he balked at her last request of him. “No, Felicity. I won’t.” His voice broke as he refused this last request and she could feel his fingers dig into her waist a little more tightly, could see how he was trying _so hard_ to literally swallow his emotions back, without success. “You… You’re innocent,” he rasped, very nearly overcome as he tried to reason with her. “-and I will _not_ leave you to sit in prison. We’re going to fight this.” 

Her shoulders shook as she fought back sobs. In her peripheral vision, she could see the bailiff approaching her and she knew that time was short. Her fingers instinctively grabbed him by his tie and she pulled his face towards hers as she rose onto her tiptoes, the tears welling in her eyes finally spilling over as she stared up at him expectantly. 

“Oliver, please. Kiss me goodbye.” 

He closed his eyes, clearly warring with himself before he inclined his head towards hers until their foreheads touched and he exhaled raggedly. But the kiss she was waiting for, the kiss she so desperately wanted, never materialized.

“No, Felicity. Fight. Please. Your sentencing is in a week - William and I will be there. We’re going to fix this - I swear to you.”

A pair of strong hands enclosed on her then and Felicity felt herself being towed away before she could say another word. She didn’t even have time to grab his hand for one last, comforting squeeze before the contact between them was severed. The sudden loss of his touch was like a physical blow and it was all that she could do to keep from falling apart on the spot. As the bailiff dragged her away, Felicity took a shallow, shuddering breath, barely stifling a sob. The one thing that held her together was Oliver; her last glimpse of her husband was of him folding William into a comforting hug, though his eyes stayed firmly trained on hers until she disappeared from view as the court doors slammed closed behind her. 

↞ ↠


	2. Chapter 2

↞↠

_Three Weeks Earlier…_

↞↠

Moonlight dappled the high-rise apartment master bedroom in a soft, nighttime glow, faintly illuminating Oliver’s slumbering figure and the rumpled silk bed sheets that were pooled around his waist. The nightstand clock’s red numerals glowed brightly in the relative darkness, showing that it was only 4:07 in the morning when Felicity slipped out from beneath the bedsheets, careful not to disturb her husband as he slept. Creeping around the bed, she fished her pajamas off of the floor where they’d been cast aside the night before. As she pulled her top back on, Felicity couldn’t help but smile at the memories of the previous night. She and Oliver had, understandably, been in high spirits after Cayden James had been placed in SCPD custody and for the first time in what felt like far too long, there had been a lightness to Oliver’s step and a spark of hope in his eyes. Felicity knew he was confident they would get back the funds James had extorted from the city, and that life would get to resume some semblance of their family’s specific brand of normal.

A ‘normal’ that now entailed them being husband and wife. Even as Felicity dressed in silence, she found herself eyeing her wedding band affectionately. It still amazed her how quickly the little circlet of metal had become such a comforting, permanent fixture on her hand. She hadn’t thought it was possible for her to love Oliver or their life together anymore than she already had. But being married had brought a new depth to that love that she was still discovering. And while they still hadn’t been able to go on a proper honeymoon together, they’d endeavored to make certain that every day they shared together had at least one small, perfect, moment. 

Last night had had _several_ such moments. And she had the hickeys (and he had the scratch marks) to prove it. 

Stealing a peek over her shoulder at his quietly snoring figure, Felicity sighed contentedly at how relaxed he was now, in sleep. It was rare, these days, to find Oliver without an expression of concern or stress. Tiptoeing to his side of the bed, she snagged the sheets and pulled them up over his bare skin until he was covered up to his shoulders. She then bent and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, breathing in the smell of him deeply. That heady combination of leather that always lingered on him, mingled with sweat and notes of sandalwood from his shampoo. Fixing the image of him looking so at ease in her mind’s eye, Felicity slipped from their bedroom and into the living room beyond. Along the way she snagged her tablet and quickly found her way to the couch where she curled up and got to work. 

Cayden James was in custody. But his cronies were still at large - and Felicity couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease that told her they needed to be rounded up - and soon. 

She worked with unrelenting fervor, hacking every database and security feed she could think of to try and get a bead on Diaz or Laurel. Anatoly, she would leave Oliver to deal with. But with the limited information she had to go off of, Felicity was finding the trail ran abruptly cold with both criminals. By the time the sky was beginning to pink with the distantly rising sun, Felicity was nearly ready to tear out her own hair. 

“What good is a genius level IQ if I can’t hunt down a couple of no account criminals?!” Felicity sighed, running a hand through her hair before she pulled it into a messy ponytail and resumed her efforts, though with equally fruitless results. 

A quick glance at the time showed that soon, Oliver would be getting up and William wouldn’t be far behind him. (How she’d ended up married to a morning person still boggled the mind) The smart thing to do would be to crawl back into bed with her husband and try to steal a few precious minutes of sleep while she could. Instead, Felicity set her tablet to the side and removed her glasses before massaging her temples with fatigue. 

She wasn’t done searching for Laurel or Diaz. But for now? She had the school run to worry about; William had his club meeting before school today and would need a ride rather than relying on the bus. Oliver was going to want to go into the office bright and early, knowing him, so she’d take care of WIlliam. She was just going to need a lot of coffee to accomplish that, given she was running on a whopping three and a half hours of sleep. If she tried to go to bed now though, she’d be out like a light by the time William was ready to go and knowing Oliver, he’d let her sleep rather than wake her. So sleep? Not an option.

Stretching wearily, Felicity padded into the kitchen to see about making coffee but as she began to do so, she found herself distracted when a peek at the freezer revealed a carton of her beloved mint chip. If she hurried? She could _totally_ have a bowl of ice cream for breakfast before either one of the boys woke up and berated her about the need for ‘nutritious food’. 

That was the one downside to being married to Oliver ‘I can cook gourmet meals’ Queen - Felicity’s penchant for eating sugary pre-packaged breakfasts had fallen by the wayside. Oliver didn’t even buy _poptarts_ for crying out loud.

Anarchy. That’s what she’d married into. 

Grabbing a spoon and the container of mint chip, Felicity made her way back to the couch and resumed her work on chasing down an alter ego of Laurel’s that she thought might be currently in play. Diving deep into the dark web and beyond, Felicity followed the trail of sparse breadcrumbs she had found, praying they would lead somewhere. 

It was amazing how, even after having proved Oliver’s innocence in the death of Cayden James’ son, there was still so much work to do. It was like every time they managed to navigate one hurdle, three more would be thrown in front of them. Like a freaking hydra of myth. In taking James off the board they’d eliminated a threat to the city, to be sure. But the extorted money was still hanging over their heads in a big way, and Diaz and Laurel being ghosts in the wind only spelled future trouble too. And maybe it was selfish of her, but _damn it,_ Felicity wanted a few precious moments of peace for her and her family. So if staying up all night to throw Diaz and Laurel away got her that? Yeah, she’s gladly forgo sleep and risk all the hand cramps in the world, staying up late hacking to accomplish that. 

The ice cream had begun to melt when she finally remembered to take a bite of it, but even her favorite ice cream lacked its usual lustor in the face of her monumental stress. This was the sort of stress level that demanded expensive wine to remedy - but naturally, wine at this hour would be frowned upon. Not to mention there was the whole school run to consider - being a glass deep prior to 8am probably wouldn’t be a good look for _anybody_. And she really wasn’t looking to be _that_ stepmom in the student dropoff line. 

“How is this fair? If I’m stressed I should at least be able to enjoy _one_ simple pleasure,” Felicity huffed, giving the ice cream a melancholy stab with her spoon. Setting aside the melted mint chip, the blonde closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath to try and forestall the headache she could already feel coming on from lack of sleep and too many hours staring at screens. 

All the blue light blocking glasses in the world were no match for Felicity Smoak when she was on a hacking tear and the way her eyes currently ached was proof of that. 

Recognizing that she’d be worse than useless if she worked herself past the point of exhaustion, Felicity carefully locked and powered down her tablet before she rose from the couch and stretched languidly. As she was in the process of cracking her back, however, some faint, errant noise drew her attention, making her hair stand on end and her skin prickle uneasily. Glancing around the apartment, Felicity saw no signs of movement in the pre-dawn light but her instincts screamed at her that something was off. 

And if she’d learned anything from marrying a vigilante? It was to listen to her instincts.

Heeding her gut, she found herself facing the front door and backing quietly towards the bedroom where she knew Oliver still slept. She had made it halfway there when an explosive thud rocked the front of the apartment, sending the front door flying off its hinges. Simultaneously, dark, Kevlar clad figures swept into the apartment like a tide of ants, teeming and shouting as they leveled loaded rifles at her, prompting her to throw herself to the ground with a startled yelp of terror. It wasn’t until a half a second later that Felicity processed that their vests were emblazoned with ‘ _SCPD’._

What the frak!?

Felicity was still reeling from the front door exploding off of its hinges and officers sweeping into the high rise when she heard a loud _thud_ from the bedroom. Still cowering behind the couch, she chanced a glance behind her, in the direction from which the ‘thud’ had come. A few seconds later Oliver came flying out of their room, clad in nothing but his boxers, eyes blazing as he took in the chaos that had come pouring into their home. 

“What the hell is going on here?!” Oliver thundered before he spotted Felicity and, ignoring the gun toting officers, rushed to kneel before her, his hands hovering over her with concern. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?!”

“I-I’m fine,” she managed, peering over the back of the couch timidly as Oliver helped her to her feet; he then quickly tucked her behind him in a protective gesture, using himself as a human shield. Before he could yell another question at the police though, the police captain herself strode into their apartment, her eyes landing on Oliver before she made a beeline for him.

Well dressed in a smart pant suit and with her hair perfectly coiffed, Captain Hill was the picture of a professional, with an air of pragmatism that Felicity was certain had served her well. Her shrewd gaze took in the scene quickly and she wasted little time in raising a hand to tell her officers to stand down as she approached the husband and wife pair. 

“Captain Hill, if this is related to the investigation into my supposed vigilante activities, I would have appreciated the courtesy of you calling to have us open the door before you broke it down and nearly gave my wife a heart attack,” Oliver growled through clenched teeth, only for the Captain to shake her head, her expression dark. 

“I’m sorry, Mayor Queen. My hands are tied on this one. It’s...not you that we’re here for…” Hill trailed off quietly and Felicity froze from her vantage behind Oliver. If it wasn’t Oliver they were here for, there was only one other person it could be - Felicity refused to believe they would have made this big of a fuss for a juvenile like William and besides, William certainly wouldn’t have done anything to merit this kind of response. 

That left her. 

“Captain Hill, what does that mean?” Oliver demanded in a low, dangerous tone. The Captain met his gaze sadly but offered no other explanation. Felicity forced herself to move out from behind him, her blood turning to ice as she stared down the other woman.

“I-It’s me, isn’t it? That’s what you meant? You’re not here for Oliver - you’re here for me.” 

Oliver turned to her, utterly stricken, and she laid a hand on his forearm as she waited for the Captain to respond. She had the decency to look sorrowful before she nodded, forcing herself to look Felicity in the eyes. 

“We have a warrant for your arrest, Mrs. Smoak-Queen.” 

“On what grounds?!” Oliver snarled contemptuously as Hill produced the warrant for his inspection. He snatched it from her and opened it up quickly for them both to read, his eyes scanning the paper as the blood drained from his face. “This can’t be real.” 

Felicity read the charges and she felt the world bottoming out from beneath her. And while she felt pretty confident that things couldn’t possibly get any worse than they were at that moment, less than a minute later things went from bad to worse. 

William spilled out of his room, hair mussed and eyes wide with fright as he caught sight of the slew of police in the apartment. As he came into view, several of the responding officers raised their rifles at him in warning and shouted at him not to move and in that moment Felicity saw red. 

“HEY!” The sound that wrenched itself from her was a primitive snarl that startled even Felicity. “No! No, no _nonono._ Get your guns off of my _son!”_ Felicity shouted, dimly aware of Oliver swearing and booming out a similar warning to the officers. As one, she and Oliver moved swiftly to step closer to William, only to find several guns pointed at them in response. Felicity shook with rage as she glared at the officers and then at Hill. “Tell your men to stand down. _Now._ He is a minor and he has _nothing_ to do with any of this,” she growled, her gaze darting to William as she desperately sought to reassure him from across the room. 

Hill motioned to her men and they grudgingly lowered their guns, allowing William to sprint across the distance separating him from his parents. He threw himself into Oliver and Felicity’s waiting arms and Felicity felt herself beginning to buckle beneath the strain of the currently unfolding disaster. Enveloping William in a tight hug, she lost herself in holding him, blocking out the horror unfolding in their living room for at least a few seconds.

“What’s going on?!” William whispered in a tremulous voice, looking from Oliver to Felicity. 

“We’re trying to figure that out right now,” Oliver answered honestly, and Felicity slipped one of her hands through one of William’s. 

“But right now...the police seem to think I did some things… Things I definitely didn’t do,” Felicity explained, turning her attention back to the warrant still clenched in Oliver’s hand. 

The list of charges was extensive. 

Computer Fraud. Identity Theft. Blackmail. Accessing Stored Communications. Electronic Harassment. Extortion involving computers. Obtaining National Security Information. It was a veritable cornucopia of digital crimes which, when stacked on top of each other? Would make for a hefty sentence if found guilty. 

And admittedly, Felicity _was_ guilty - she’d done most of those things in the name of helping Oliver on his crusade to save the city. But the instances in which she’d been guilty of committing these crimes? Those weren’t the instances for which she was now being charged. These charges were for crimes she’d had absolutely no hand in. _None._

“I-I don’t understand,” Felicity stammered, looking from the warrant to Hill and back again. “These are all crimes against prominent members of Star City and their companies. What motive would I have for doing this to any of them?! I _like_ these people!” Felicity protested as her eyes scanned the list of names. She even saw high ranking members of Palmer Tech on the list - people she had considered if not friends, at least colleagues. 

“It’s widely known that you and the Palmer Tech board had a falling out. That could be viewed as sufficient motivation to get back at your old company,” Hill elaborated and Felicity winced. She’d totally walked into that one.

“But I didn’t! I wouldn’t! I mean... How do you even have evidence to justify a warrant for my arrest for crimes _I didn’t do?!_ ” Felicity questioned anxiously, her heart beginning to clatter about nervously within her chest. 

“The department received an anonymous tip in the form of a digital info drop that contained rather compelling evidence of your culpability for all of these crimes. It was dropped on our servers late last night.” 

“How is that possible? These are all digital crimes, what kind of proof could someone possibly have sent you for this?” Oliver pressed in disbelief and Hill shifted her weight uneasily. 

“We had our tech department look over the files. Mrs. Smoak-Queen’s digital fingerprints were identified as being all over each of these cases. The evidence was...overwhelming.” 

Felicity felt Oliver’s eyes land on her as he sought some sort of explanation and Felicity closed her eyes as suddenly, things clicked into place. 

“Cayden James,” she whispered hoarsely, only for her husband to frown at her without comprehension.

“He’s in custody, he couldn’t-” Oliver began, only for Felicity to interrupt him.

“He must have had a contingency plan in place in the case of his capture,” Felicity reasoned; just then, Hill cleared her throat quietly, stopping them all dead. 

“I was informed this morning that Mister James was attacked by another inmate upon arriving at Iron Heights. He… didn’t survive.” 

Oliver and Felicity could do little more than blink at Hill, too stunned for words as they processed this news. Felicity reached out to steady herself on the couch and found Oliver touching the small of her back with concern. 

“I-I’m sorry. He _died_?! That can’t be a coincidence,” Felicity pointed out as she massaged her temple, only for Hill to take a deep breath. 

“I personally investigated the matter myself to look for _any_ signs of foul play. It happened sometime between transfer and intake. An inmate caught James unawares. By the time the guards intervened… it was too late. The inmate was off his meds - he probably didn’t have a clue who he was actually murdering.” 

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t find the random murder of Cayden James to feel very ‘random’, Captain,” Oliver retorted heatedly and Hill ducked her head and nodded.

“It was bad timing. And even worse luck. I don’t deny that,” Hill acknowledged stoically. 

“But the file dump occurred after James was in custody; so he could have programmed it to send if he wasn’t around to stop it, right? Like a fail safe. A digital dead man’s switch,” Oliver began, only for Hill to shake her head. 

“According to my tech guys, the time stamps on the files themselves show that they were compiled _after_ James was in custody and the digital signature does not match James.” 

“Meaning whoever did this couldn’t have been James,” Oliver finished and Felicity swallowed thickly as her mind raced to try and make sense of it all. Clearly someone else was at play but the question was _who?_ Evidence strong enough to convince the SCPD to put a warrant out on her would have had to be compelling - and none of Cayden James’ known associates had the requisite tech skills to pull off such a feat. 

“Mrs. Smoak-Queen, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” Captain Hill intoned regretfully and Felicity felt her skin break out into goosebumps. She… she was being taken into police custody. This was really happening.

“No. Absolutely not,” Oliver growled, stepping forward to block Felicity from Hill. “This is bullshit and you know it. My wife is not the person responsible for these crimes.” 

“What I believe doesn’t matter, Mister Mayor. What matters is the law. And the evidence says that she’s broken it. I have to take her into custody.”

Felicity watched as Oliver’s hands curled into fists and she could sense his willingness to escalate the situation, despite the inadvisability of that. Felicity knew all too well that Oliver was willing to do anything - _anything_ \- to protect the people that he loved. It was one of the fundamental truths of his character - for good or for bad. And she loved him for it, truly she did. But right now? The best thing he could do was let them take her, however hard that might be for both of them. 

Her palm flattened across the middle of his back, skating up along the planes of muscle there until her fingers were splayed between his shoulder blades in a calming, steadying touch. She felt a shudder run through him before he turned his head to look at her, the anguish in his eyes very nearly doubling her over. As it was, the sight of him so wounded was enough to leave her momentarily speechless for a few long, awkward seconds. 

“Oliver, I have to go with them,” she reasoned at last and his eyes slammed shut, his nostrils flaring as he shook his head in vehement disagreement. Every line of his body was tensed and ready to spring and she knew it had to be killing him that she was in a sort of danger that no amount of arrows or punches or self sacrifice on his part could save her from.

“No. Absolutely not. This is insane, Felicity. You didn’t do any of this-”

“-You know that. And I know that. So now we have to trust Captain Hill and the rest of the department to prove that,” Felicity quieted him as he reached one arm to her and another to William, drawing them both to his chest for a tight hug. 

“I’ll call Jean. She’ll sort all of this out,” Oliver stated, though Felicity wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. 

“Ask her if she has a buy one defense, get one free special going,” Felicity offered in a feeble attempt at humor. She succeeded in eliciting a barking half laugh, half cry from Oliver before she stepped gingerly out of the shared embrace with him and William. Touching her hand to her stepson’s face, she winked at him nervously. “As for you? Don’t forget you’ve got your Computer Science Club today and math homework due tomorrow,” Felicity reminded him, unable to help the surge of motherly affection that had her fighting the urge to cling to William and never let go. 

“You’re coming back, right?” William asked and Felicity felt the air flee the room as his honest but difficult question landed like a kick to her chest. 

“I-I don’t think so, no. Not just yet, William. It… It’ll probably take them some time to work all of this out,” Felicity explained tearily, meeting his eyes even though the sight of him, so broken hearted, was enough to make her heart shatter. 

“Felicity… I can’t lose you too,” William pleaded and Felicity had to slam her eyes closed to fight off the tidal wave of tears that William’s honest entreaty summoned. He’d already lost so much. She’d only ever wanted to build him back up from all that had been taken from him and now? Now she was just the latest in a long line of wrecking balls to pass through his life. 

“You won’t. You’ll always have me. No matter what. Promise,” Felicity whispered before she drew him in for another hug as Oliver watched on, looking positively shattered. When she extricated herself from William she turned to Oliver next and for a moment, he refused to meet her gaze, prompting her to smooth both hands up his chest and along his neck until she had a hand on either side of his face. 

“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” Felicity warned him, knowing all too well what sort of dark place he was probably retreating into. “You can’t go to pieces on me, Oliver. I need to know you’re going to hold it together. For William and for yourself… And for me.” 

He nodded but still refused to meet her gaze until she tilted her head to the side, finally catching his eye. “I love you,” she whispered the words, heavy with emotion and in response Oliver shook his head and blinked furiously before looking straight up at the ceiling. For a moment she was afraid she’d pushed him too far but before she could contemplate a course of action to make things right, Oliver’s gaze shifted back to her and instead of returning her ‘I love you’, he began to advise her in a hurried whisper.

“Don’t say anything,” he muttered to her hurriedly as Felicity stepped towards Hill, her hands held before her submissively. As the handcuffs clicked into place around her wrists, Felicity held Oliver’s gaze, drawing strength from him in these fleeting, final moments. “Just hold on, Felicity. Jean will meet you at the prison as soon as she can. Wait for her, she’ll tell you what to do.” 

Felicity nodded, biting her lower lip to hold back a sob as Hill conducted a brief but thorough pat down before she led her away from Oliver and William. Together, Felicity and Hill were flanked by the gun toting SCPD officers as they stepped over the splintered remains of the front door and it wasn’t until they were in the elevator and halfway to the ground floor that Felicity realized she was still in her pajamas and barefoot, her hair was a gnarled mess, and she was willing to bet her eyes were probably puffy and/or bloodshot. 

Oh god. These mugshots were _not_ going to be pretty. Frak. 

\-----

Despite the ungodly early hour, central processing and booking was busy. Or at least, it was teeming with officers, all of whom seemed entirely too eager to watch as Felicity was marched into the belly of the building. What ensued was nothing short of humiliating and dehumanizing: under the watchful eyes of the officers, Felicity was searched and her belongings were taken from her and inventoried. The list of her personal effects was then presented to her and after perusing it to be certain that it was accurate, she signed her name to the document before being whisked off for the next phase of the process. 

Law & Order and every cop drama she’d ever watched had skipped over all the unpleasant bits that followed the Miranda Rights, as it turned out. 

She was asked to provide personal information to the officers - her address, her birth date, and other such details. After that came the much dreaded mugshot which, yeah… It didn’t look great. In her defense, who _would_ look great after getting only a few hours sleep and staying up all night diligently working to save their family? Felicity would wager no one looked modelesque after all of that. But of course, that wouldn’t be the talking point for the news outlets on the five o’clock news tonight. No no, they’d be plastering her messy haired mugshot over every television screen from Star City to Central City and she could already picture the snide commentary that would ensue. 

By comparison, having her fingerprints taken was relatively painless, even if staring at the ink stains on her fingers afterward made her want to cry. How had her _digital_ fingerprints ended up on files with evidence of crimes she’d had nothing to do with? Hill had told Oliver that Cayden James had been killed - which was in and of itself a surprising enough twist. But how and why would he have orchestrated such a ploy as this, to take her down, after they’d proven they were not his enemy and that Oliver was not responsible for his son’s death? It didn’t add up.

And if there was one thing that Felicity hated more than her mugshot? It was mysteries. Especially mysteries that threatened her and her family. 

She was still deep in thought, trying to puzzle out the truth behind this mix up and how it might tie in with Cayden James’ murder when a familiar, welcome voice broke through the din. 

“I gotta tell you, I’ve seen a lot of muck ups in my time on the force, but you in a cell has got to be the worst one yet,” Quentin Lance’s gruff tone cut through Felicity’s thoughts like a hot knife through butter, jolting her back to the present. 

“Quentin!” Felicity gushed in relief, leaping to her feet and crossing to the opposite end of the small cell, where the Deputy Mayor himself was watching her from the outside. “You are a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you,” she confessed as her fingers curled around the metal bars that separated them. Her joy at seeing a familiar, friendly face was cut short as she studied him and saw the unmistakable gleam of pity in his eyes.

That couldn’t portend anything good.

“I wish I could say the same, really I do. But seeing you like this? Let’s just say, it’s not doing this old ticker of mine any good,” Quentin murmured, staring at her with the same, piteous and sorrowful expression.

“Well for what it’s worth, my heart’s not loving it much either,” Felicity returned, gnawing at her lower lip for a moment before she plunged ahead. “How bad is it?” 

Lance studied her for a heartbeat as though sizing her up and then he inhaled and began to fill her in. “You want the long or the short version?” 

“Something tells me I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, so might as well have the long version.” 

“It’s not great,” Lance confessed, one hand on his hip as the other rubbed the back of his neck in a surefire tell that just screamed aloud how uncomfortable he felt delivering this news to her. “The DA has already filed charges,” Lance began and Felicity felt the blood draining out of her face as her whole body went cold.

“A-Already? That feels fast. Is that fast?” 

“I mean, usually these things have to be done within 48 to 72 hours after the person has been booked,” Lance explained and Felicity blinked at him in disbelief.

“I-I’ve been here for what? An hour? Is it a good thing that this is moving so fast, or is that like… catastrophically bad?” Felicity fretted and Lance winced for a split second before he caught himself and schooled his expression. But it was too late - the damage had been done. 

“Hard saying,” he replied weakly, offering her a shrug. “Could be they’re trying to get this over and done with fast because they anticipate you getting off and they want to put it behind them. I don’t need to tell you that the department is getting a _lot_ of pressure from the Mayor’s office to make this snappy,” Lance remarked pointedly and Felicity closed her eyes and sighed.

“Oliver.” 

“Yeah, ‘Oliver’. I don’t think I need to tell you how twisted up he is over this. He’s got his entire office working double time on this and it’s only-” Lance paused and checked his watch, “-seven oh two in the morning. I can tell you from firsthand experience, that was the angriest six a.m. phone call I’ve ever gotten. And I’ve got an ex-wife who wasn’t shy about picking up the phone,” Lance remarked in his own attempt at humor but Felicity could only groan by way of response.

He was totally spiraling. She’d tried to fortify him before Hill had taken her into custody but he was still going to the dark place. Not that she could blame him - ever since they’d learned of the investigation against him (and even more so after Rene’s betrayal), Felicity had been forced to contemplate a life without him, while he sat trapped in prison with the very monsters he had put there. It had been enough to make her lose sleep, and to wake her up in the middle of the night, her heart racing. She could imagine only too well what he must be feeling - and she hated to think of him living through the very pain she’d had nightmares of. 

“How badly is he taking this? On a scale of one to ‘joined the League of Assassins and is now their leader’ levels of bad?” 

For a solid fifteen seconds, Lance could only stare at her in open mouthed shock but then he shook his head and with raised brows, he attempted to refocus. “Well I can’t say I know entirely how bad the whole league business was, but I think it’s safe to say that he’s taking this pretty badly, even by Oliver’s standards.” 

Her eyes fluttered closed and not for the first time that morning (or even that hour, in truth), Felicity found herself fighting off tears. “I tried to be strong for him,” she explained with a weak, little shrug. “Clearly I wasn’t strong enough.” 

“Hey now - that’s not the problem and you know it. The problem is he loves you and you’re here, instead of at home with him and your boy, where you belong. But we’re gonna figure this out and get you back to them as soon as we can.” 

Felicity sniffled and nodded, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “Quentin? I need you to promise me something.” 

His expression shifted from comforting to one of surprise and he tilted his head to the side a little. “Name it.” 

“I need you to take care of my boys for me. No matter what happens with all of this,” she gestured around her vaguely, “just… Promise me you’ll watch out for them for me.” 

Quentin’s features relaxed and he regarded her with unguarded affection then. “I won’t need to. You’ll be back with them in no time. Once the charges are processed, you’ll have your arraignment. They march you up in front of the judge, the judge asks you ‘how do you plead?’ and you’ll say-” Lance paused, sweeping a hand towards her pointedly.

“-not guilty,” Felicity offered quickly and he nodded, offering her the barest of smiles before he carried on with his explanation. 

“-and then you post bail and you go home and we work on chasing down the folks that are _actually_ responsible for this whole mess.” 

Surprisingly, Lance’s explanation lifted some of the weight from her shoulders and Felicity felt the tiniest glimmer of hope cut through the clouds that had been hanging low over her head ever since the SCPD had come busting down the apartment door. 

“Thank you,” Felicity exhaled slowly, lifting her eyes to his. “That… It helps. Knowing what’s going to happen. Having a plan of attack. And knowing I have you on my side,” she gave him a lopsided smile and he reached a hand through the bars to squeeze one of hers. 

“Damn right. If you thought I took this Deputy Mayor gig on just to help Oliver, you would be sadly mistaken,” Lance teased softly but in such a way that Felicity could feel the honesty behind his words. Her fingers clasped his a little more tightly then and she tried to keep the wobble out of her voice as she spoke again.

“We’re both very lucky to have you, Quentin.” 

Though he stayed a while longer to keep her company and make certain she was as calm and comfortable as she was likely to get, eventually Quentin had to leave her and once more, Felicity was left in the gaping solitude of her confinement for hours that seemed to stretch into infinity until Captain Hill and a fleet of her officers arrived to escort Felicity to the courthouse. 

As she was marched inside, Felicity caught sight of Oliver and she instinctively began to drift towards him before Captain Hill course corrected her. Felicity had to settle for staring hungrily at her husband as she was marched to the defendant’s seat. Oliver’s eyes devoured her as she passed by him, close enough that she could have reached out and touched him. But Felicity’s hands were still very firmly handcuffed together and so instead she let her eyes hold him with all the warmth that she longed to embrace him with. 

It wasn’t near enough.

She was relieved to see Jean Loring already seated at the table, studiously perusing a document until Felicity was deposited alongside her. Her handcuffs were promptly removed at that point, leaving Felicity free to massage her wrists as she regarded her attorney.

“Felicity,” Jean acknowledged quietly, removing a black pen from her lips as she turned to regard her client. “Before we get started, I’ve heard Oliver’s side of things but I’d like to hear your side too,” she began delicately, only for Felicity to interrupt. 

“I didn’t do any of it, Jean. I mean… I’ve done _similar_ things but I didn’t do _these_ specific things,” Felicity rambled before Jean cut her off by lifting up a palm and shaking her head.

“The less I know, the better. I just needed to hear it from you.” 

“How bad is this, Jean?” 

“It’s too soon for me to say definitively but from where I sit? You’re a public figure with a known tech background, whose husband just threw a known digital criminal in prison. It shouldn’t be hard to argue that there’s a very strong likelihood you were framed. Remember, Felicity - it’s the prosecution’s job to determine incontrovertible proof of guilt. All we have to do is prove that there’s a possibility of innocence. And since you _are_ innocent, that should help. Everyone just needs to keep their cool - understood?” Jean asked pointedly as she closed the folder in front of her and half turned; it was at that moment that Felicity realized Oliver had navigated his way to the front row of the courtroom, placing him directly behind them. There was little question who Jean had been aiming her comment about keeping cool at.

Oliver looked ready to either fight or fall over and Felicity wasn’t quite sure which of the two would win out.

“Hey,” he murmured gently. And though she knew he was trying to be strong for her, every weighty ounce of his concern for her was painstakingly apparent. 

“Hey,” Felicity returned with an uneven smile, reaching a tentative hand towards him. His fingers wrapped around hers eagerly and it was all Felicity could do not to throw herself bodily into his arms. It had been all of a matter of hours but already, she had missed his touch. “Are you ready for this?” 

“For you to plead ‘not guilty’ and post bail so I can take you home? I’m _abundantly_ ready,” Oliver rumbled, his thumb running over her knuckles soothingly. 

“I want poptarts for breakfast. The frosted strawberry ones _and_ the S’mores ones. No snide sugar commentary allowed,” Felicity pestered him good naturedly, taking a ridiculous amount of pride in the exhaling laugh he gave despite the anguish that she could see written in his posture. 

“You can have anything you want. You just have to come home,” Oliver murmured with a quietude that set her nerves on edge. Before she could delve deeper into his unconditional acceptance of her breakfast terms though, the judge appeared and the arraignment began.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun; when the time came, Felicity said her two word piece of ‘Not guilty’ in as strong, clear, and confident a voice as she could muster. The date for her court case was set for three weeks later and everything seemed to be humming right along until the subject of bail came up. 

That was when the wheels started to come off. 

“Your honor, the prosecution asks that the defendant be denied bail.” 

Felicity felt her head snap to her right as she looked to the DA in surprise and sudden, very intense alarm. What little composure she’d been clinging to rapidly began to degrade in the face of this most unexpected and unwelcome plot twist. Denied bail? But... _why?_ She wasn’t some violent criminal! She wasn’t even a criminal! Well...perhaps strictly speaking she was, but they didn’t know that! 

No bail? That meant no going home. No sleeping in bed with the reassuring warmth of Oliver at her back. No familiar weight of his arms wrapped around her in sleep. No early morning chats with William over one of Oliver’s trademark homemade breakfasts. No school run. No family video game nights, no family dinners.

No working to bring Diaz and Black Siren down. No working to keep her family safe.

Felicity was spinning, lost in a darkness so intense and so vast that there seemed to be no way out. No bail? How was that possible? How, when she was on the brink of seeing her family safe, was she now in the position to leave them hanging, vulnerable and exposed? This was so much worse than just her being stuck in custody indefinitely. This was the team being short of their tech support. This was Oliver and John going out on the streets blind. This was leaving some of the people she loved most at a time when they needed her. 

This was agonizing. 

“Your honor, my client is a well respected member of the community, a business owner, and a mother-” Jean began, only for the prosecution to cut back in.

“She is a well connected figure with a family history that includes a criminal father. What’s more, her connections and technological know-how make her an acute flight risk. Your honor, with her background and the charges against her, there’s no reason to think Mrs. Smoak-Queen couldn’t - or wouldn’t - create an alternate identity for herself, enabling her to flee not only the city, but the country if she so chose. Not to mention, she could digitally meddle with evidence and impede the investigation against her.” 

“Your honor! That is a ridiculous accusation. Again, I submit that my client has _strong_ ties to the community, she has no prior convictions, and she is a devoted mother and wife.” 

The judge was silent in his deliberation as he heard out both sides but when he spoke at last, Felicity’s heart fell to her toes. “Ms. Loring, your client has the ability to make herself invisible, should she so choose to. Whether or not she _would_ use her skills in such a manner is up for debate; I rule in favor of the prosecution. The defendant is a flight risk, as well as a risk to the investigation, and will remain in custody until the outcome of her trial, which will take place three weeks from today.” 

The sharp rap of the gavel swinging down was the last thing Felicity really processed before her grief and shock numbed her to the world. As quickly as that, her freedom had been snatched from her. Her ability to be a mother and a wife was ripped from her, a tear so painful that it nearly doubled her over in literal agony. There was only one thing she could think to do, when the pain was so immense as to be nearly blinding:

She reached for Oliver. 

But even as her fingers stretched towards him, she could see he was being waylaid by Captain Hill and courtroom security. And as she reached for the hand she so desperately wanted to hold, the bailiff seized upon her wrist and began to drag her bodily away, promptly carting her off to county lockup without so much as a chance to say a proper goodbye to Oliver first. 

And it was at the county lockup that she would sit for the next three long, miserable, heartsick weeks. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a disclaimer/tw - Felicity experiences a mild to moderate panic attack in the following chapter!

From the moment she’d been ripped from his arms and escorted out of their home, Oliver had felt a physical ache for Felicity. The sensation of her fingers sliding through his as she stepped away from him to meet her fate? It hadn’t left him in the hours that followed. It was as if his body was literally itching for her touch, longing to reach out and grab the beloved hands that had slipped through his. 

Knowing that she was here in the very same city as him, longing to come home to him and to William, but that she was unable to? Knowing that he could not go to her no matter how badly he yearned to? It was ripping him apart. 

In the moments after the police had departed the apartment, Felicity in tow, Oliver had taken one angry, eager step after them before the weight of William’s hand on his wrist had drawn him up short. Oliver’s whole body was vibrating with rage and fear but when he turned back to look at his son, William’s eyes were glossy with tears. It was William and William alone that kept Oliver from going off half cocked to save Felicity.

A flurry of early morning phone calls had ensued as Oliver pulled everyone that he could think of to work on proving Felicity’s innocence. His entire office was not only awoken during the pre-dawn darkness as Oliver spiraled, but they were all tasked with helping Felicity’s defense. In retrospect, it was definitely an unethical call for the Mayor to task his entire staff with building his wife’s legal defense. But Oliver wasn’t concerned about crossing lines. He didn’t give a damn how his actions might impact his own defense in the case currently being built against him. The only thing he cared about was getting his wife back home where she belonged. 

Which was precisely why, as soon as the precinct was open, Oliver had marched on the SCPD to demand that Hill let him see Felicity.

“No. Absolutely not, Mister Mayor.” 

“Let me be clear: this isn’t a request, Captain. I want to see my wife.  _ Now.  _ So either lead me to her or get out of my way.” 

“Even supposing I was willing to break protocol - which I’m not - sir, I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this.” 

“Your opposition is noted. But I want to see my wife,” Oliver growled through clenched teeth. His crisp gray suit felt too tight and too hot as he stewed in his wrath but to his surprise, Hill held her ground. 

“Mister Mayor, I swore an oath to protect this city. And you? You are this city’s best protector. I can’t let you do anything to put your mayoral standing at risk. So no, I will not break protocol to let you see your wife. The best thing I can do for you - personally and professionally - is to keep you away from her.” 

“I beg to differ,” Oliver snarled, not at all appreciative of Hill’s attempts to protect him, however noble her intentions. “If you knew me at all, Captain, you would know that I am a man who has known a lot of darkness. And if it weren’t for Felicity, I would still be in that darkness - she is the one who lights my way.”

All at once, Oliver had to pause to force himself to breathe, his eyes fluttering closed as he fought to maintain his already flimsy grasp on his composure. Even  _ breathing  _ was harder without her. God, he was a wreck. Ignoring the way his pulse seemed to dart about like a jackrabbit, Oliver steadied himself with as deep a breath as he could manage. “As long as she and I are kept apart? I am  _ no one’s _ best  _ anything _ . Any good I am capable of? I am only capable of because of her.”

Hill swallowed but to Oliver’s dismay, she didn’t budge. “If that’s true, then Mister Mayor, please. Let me help you get her back by keeping this investigation and the case against her above reproach. If you interfere, it will only make things worse - for both of you. Let me help the city by helping you. Go home. You can see her at her arraignment.”

Oliver’s eyes slammed shut and he fought to keep his breathing even. Hill was right. Barging into holding to see Felicity might bring him comfort for a moment but it could damage the case against her and give the prosecution more ammunition, or cause to investigate further. And Oliver knew all too well that he and Felicity had plenty to hide and everything to lose.

God help him, there weren’t words strong enough to convey the depths of his need to hold her. But he would have born that pain - and gladly - if he knew that she was alright. If he knew that she wasn’t scared. Given the circumstances? How could she not be? And how could he leave her here, knowing how frightened and alone she must feel? 

“Mister Mayor?” 

Oliver ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly before he opened his eyes, fixing his attention on the Captain.

“I’ll let you know as soon as the arraignment has been scheduled. It’ll be at the courthouse. You can attend but you have to remain in the public portion of the courtroom,” Hill explained gently and Oliver hung his head. 

More separation. More waiting. But if waiting was what it took to bring her home safely, so be it. 

“Understood. Thank you, Captain,” Oliver had sighed before slowly leaving the precinct, part of him dying with every step that carried him further from Felicity. 

If only he’d known how the arraignment would go - he might have forced his way into holding to see her, protocol be damned. 

The arraignment had been Oliver’s very own personal hell. Seeing the hope on Felicity’s face turn to dust had nearly destroyed him. Oliver wasn’t sure which was louder - the sound of the Judge banging his gavel, or Oliver’s heart ricocheting against his chest as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

In an instant he was on his feet, ready to leap over the wooden railing that separated him from Felicity. Seeming to sense his intentions, Jean rounded on him in a heartbeat and the court security officers weren’t far behind, along with Captain Hill. Together, the group of them were able to hold him back as he struggled to cross the divide separating him from his wife.

They were going to take her away. And under no circumstances could she be taken from him without him getting the chance to say goodbye. Their parting in the apartment replayed in his head and Oliver could still feel the ghost of her touch as she’d slid literally through his fingertips. He needed to hold her to him in a fierce, protective hug. He needed to kiss her, to breathe her name against her lips. There were a million things he hadn’t done and they had all just become unbearably urgent. 

They couldn’t take her from him. But they were. 

In the confusion, Oliver lost sight of Felicity as he attempted to shake off Hill and the security officers without ripping them apart the way his instincts screamed at him to. And by the time he found her again, she was halfway across the room, being dragged out by the bailiffs. The last glimpse he got of her was of her looking positively stricken before the doors closed behind her and Oliver’s world seemed to shatter. 

Felicity’s bail had been denied.

She was going to be held in custody for  _ three weeks _ . That was twenty one days and nights without Felicity. That was twenty one days she would spend in police custody for crimes she hadn’t committed, cut off from the world and everyone she knew and loved. Alone and frightened. The very thought of it was enough to make him want to scream. This? This was anguish of the highest order. This was unprecedented suffering. This was worse than any physical torture he’d ever endured. This? This was having his still beating heart ripped from his chest and set on fire. 

The love of his life was being held in custody. And he couldn’t see her or speak to her for  _ three weeks _ . Oliver wanted to rip something apart. He needed to pay forward at least a fraction of the devastation being wrought on his own heart. Where was the justice? How had this happened? What in god’s name was going on?!

“Oliver! Oliver, listen to me!” 

Through the panic roaring ever louder in his ears, Oliver could hear Jean’s voice slicing through the din, offering clarity and hope. 

“Jean, what the hell is all this? You said this was open and shut!” Oliver’s discontent rolled off him in waves and Jean fixed him with a steely look. 

“I told you that I thought we had a strong case for getting a ‘not guilty’ verdict. I never said it  _ was  _ open and shut - only that it  _ seemed like  _ it ought to be. I also told you these things are never a certainty, do you remember?” 

Despite his fury, Oliver nodded tightly. She  _ had  _ said precisely that. He’d just taken that to mean it was a done deal. Obviously, he’d been wrong. 

“This obviously wasn’t how we wanted this to go. But it doesn’t mean anything. Felicity will have to stay in custody until her trial, but we still have every reason to be hopeful. She’s innocent - which means the prosecution would really have to work hard to produce burden of proof. All we have to do is convince the jury that there’s reasonable doubt. I believe we can do that. But Felicity  _ will  _ have to await her trial while in custody.” 

“Jean, she’s going to be a sitting duck in there,” Oliver reminded the blonde attorney in a strained voice, his hands curling over the railing that parted them. “I think we both know she isn’t precisely going to be welcomed with open arms. And with the allegations against me? There will be a target on her back,” Oliver remarked in an undertone, his pulse racing at the very thought. 

“Way ahead of you. I’ll file an injunction immediately to have Felicity kept separate from the general population for her own safety. This isn’t ideal, Oliver. But make no mistake - this isn’t the end of the road. I’ll meet with Felicity to go over the charges and the case. In the meantime, if you think of anything to help, you know how to reach me. Go home, Oliver. Take care of your son. And be patient - with any luck, we’ll have Felicity back with you and William after her trial. It’s only three weeks,” Jean reminded him gently, reaching a hand out to cover one of his reassuringly. 

“Three weeks,” Oliver repeated, his eyes drifting to the heavy wooden doors that Felicity had disappeared behind. 

Three weeks without Felicity. Twenty one days. He could do that. He had no choice  _ but  _ to do that. He just prayed she would be okay. If she wasn’t? He’d never forgive himself.

\-----

“You should have called me, Oliver. I would have come to the arraignment.” 

Oliver shook his head at his brother in arms, looking morose. “I needed you to watch William since Raisa couldn’t.” 

“I could have gotten an ARGUS agent to keep an eye on him, man. You shouldn’t have been alone for that,” John said gently, coming around to stand alongside Oliver. “At some point you are gonna have to recognize that this isn’t something you need to go through alone. For your sake - or for Felicity’s,” John reminded him in a quiet tone. 

“It’s not me that I’m worried about, John,” Oliver confessed, looking brokenly at his brother in arms. “You know as well as I do that she doesn’t belong in prison.” 

Oliver had forced himself to return home after the arraignment to tell William the news that Felicity would not be returning home for a few weeks and it had been every bit as agonizing as he’d feared it would be. But now, faced with the reality of the long weeks without her? Oliver’s worry over his wife’s safety had only grown exponentially.

“I do. But I also know that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than any of us give her credit for,” John returned honestly, laying a hand over Oliver’s shoulder. “And if she has to put up with being in custody for three weeks before you can get the charges against her dropped? She’ll do what she has to do to be okay with that. But you will owe her a hell of a lot of wine and ice cream when she gets out.” 

At this Oliver gave a hollow chuckle. John was right - Oliver was going to owe Felicity a vineyard’s worth of wine and a creamery’s worth of ice cream. 

He was also right that Felicity was strong as hell. Of all of them, Felicity had ever been the strongest. But Oliver had never been okay with putting that strength to the test - no matter how capable his wife had proven herself to be under pressure. And she had - time and time and time again. 

“You’re right,” Oliver admitted, hanging his head forlornly. How was it that yet again, he had failed her? Yet again, Felicity’s strength would be tested. And yet people called  _ him  _ the hero? As if. The real hero in their relationship wore glasses and and had a tendency to ramble. He was just the muscle. “I just...wish life didn’t keep putting us in situations where she has to prove it.”

“I may not be right as often as Felicity but I’m still right often enough that you should damn well listen to me,” Diggle teased, moving across the bunker to Oliver’s secret stash of vodka. He raised his brows at Oliver, the unspoken question obvious. With a snort, Oliver nodded. “She’s got this. You have to trust her. Even though I know everything in you wants to go bust her out right now.” 

Damn. John was good. Not that it took a genius to know that Oliver was fighting such urges. 

“Bring the bottle,” he advised as John acquiesced and in short order, the two of them toasted in honor of Felicity, for whom they left out a third, empty shot glass. Oliver couldn’t help but stare at the glass in question as the vodka burned its way down his throat, the first vibrant sensation he’d experienced since the arraignment, when he’d given himself over to an all encompassing, numb sense of disbelief.

It was as he was contemplating another shot that the elevator doors parted, revealing the trio of faces Oliver had been dreading facing. 

Rene, Dinah, and Curtis stood looking sullen and sulking as they stepped primly out of the elevator, giving the bunker a cursory, judgmental sweep with their eyes before they looked at Oliver and John with no small measure of contempt. 

“Let’s get a few things straight: we’re here but that doesn’t mean we’re on speaking terms again. You said this was an emergency? We’re giving you two minutes to tell us why we should give a damn,” Dinah snapped, glaring at Oliver all the while, her gaze unflinching. But even as Dinah stared him down, Oliver could see Curtis glancing around, looking suddenly uneasy.

“Wait a second… Where’s Felicity? Aren’t you guys supposed to be like, attached at the hip?” Curtis queried, only to suddenly freeze, his eyes flaring wide. “Is this a trap? Is she hacking us?” 

Ordinarily, such a reaction would have set off Oliver’s alarms. Why would Curtis care so much about being hacked unless he had something to hide? Perhaps there was something going on with him and the other splintered faction of Team Arrow that Oliver was unaware of. But whatever the case, Oliver lacked the energy to give a damn. 

Holding his hand aloft to plead for silence, Oliver at last spoke. “Felicity isn’t here. And that’s why I asked you to come here.  _ She  _ is the emergency,” Oliver explained, though his words only seemed to elicit further confusion.

“What do you mean she’s the emergency? Where the hell is she?” Rene pressed and Oliver took a deep breath, sharing a glance with Digg before he launched into an explanation. In short order, he’d filled the team in on how Felicity had been taken into custody on bogus charges. 

“So now you want Curtis to prove that she’s innocent? Nice try. We’re not risking Curtis getting his cover blown just to help you get your wife back,” Dinah barked irritably. Oliver had to take a step back from the group at that point because just looking at their faces was making him want to go nuclear. How could they be so callous when this was  _ Felicity  _ at stake? She would have shown up for any of them. How fucking useless could they get? He’d trained them and yet, the new recruits were still behaving like precisely that - recruits. And not like seasoned agents in the field. 

“No one is asking you to risk Curtis,” Oliver volleyed back in a voice little more than a growl once he returned. “I’m asking for your help to prove that Felicity is innocent.” 

“Playing pretty fast and loose with the term ‘innocent’, aren’t we?” Rene snorted and Oliver swung to face him, his eyes blazing with anger. 

“Did you have a point? Because if you do? You should make it.  _ Now. _ And then you should be very,  _ very _ quiet,” Oliver hissed in warning. 

“We all know Felicity has done all of the things she’s being charged with, Oliver,” Dinah remarked, crossing her arms in front of her in the most contrary manner Oliver had ever seen. 

“Everything Felicity has done, she has done in the name of protecting this city. She never did the things she was charged with though. She wouldn’t hack people for personal financial gain or as revenge - everything illegal she’s ever done has been in the name of saving lives and protecting the city we love.” 

“Well bully for Felicity!” Dinah snarked and Oliver’s eyes flashed as he glared at her in warning. 

“She is a  _ hero _ \- and a better one by far than any of us,” Oliver reminded them, looking at each of them in turn. He took a great deal of pleasure in watching Curtis shrink from him guiltily. If anyone knew how impressive Felicity was, it ought to be Curtis. “You can’t tell me you’re willing to let her rot in prison for crimes that she didn’t commit.” 

“Everything we do has risks, man,” Rene shrugged, clearly unperturbed. “Felicity knew that. Why should we risk ourselves to save her?” 

“You mean aside from it being the  _ right  _ thing to do?” A piercing glare around the trio saw all three of them avoid his gaze, eyes downcast in an attempt to escape notice. “Felicity would have done it for any one of you. The least you can do is be there for her now, in her hour of need.” 

“We don’t owe you or Felicity a damn thing,” Dinah was quivering with rage as she took a half step closer, her nostrils flaring with barely restrained fury. 

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Oliver returned hollowly, too broken from the day’s events to care about Dinah or her thirst for vengeance. Her entire vendetta, the fissure that had cleaved the team in two, all of it seemed so suddenly small to him. “Regardless, I’m still asking for your help. If you won’t do it for Felicity’s sake, then do it for the city’s - we all know that having her around dramatically increases our chances of getting the city’s money back and tracking down Black Siren and Diaz.” He hated to ask them. Especially given how little he trusted them. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And there were stranger bedfellows to have than one’s former teammates. 

“And if you won’t help, we’re at least asking for your communication,” John intervened, his gaze sweeping the trio imploringly. “If you learn anything that can help us to help Felicity… We’d appreciate you passing it on. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.” 

They’d intended for that to be the end of the speech, but Oliver realized he had one more thing to say, so he cut in once more, his eyes dark as the weight of the day’s events dragged him ever deeper into the quagmire of his grief and guilt. “There’s something else… As long as she’s gone… John and I won’t be able to do much for the city. We’d be going in short handed but worse than that? I’m in no condition to be in the field. My head’s a mess worrying about her,” Oliver confessed, feeling zero shame at the acknowledgement. Without Felicity, he was capable of protecting precisely nothing - or so he believed. 

“Is that supposed to guilt us into coming back?” Rene was the first to pounce and Oliver simply shook his head, feeling so haggard. 

“No, Rene. That’s my way of telling you that… You three thought I did a terrible job. You thought you could do better? Then this is your chance to prove it. I’m bowing out. At least for now.” He offered an indifferent shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Help or don’t. But either way, you’re the ones looking out for the city now. I’ll carry on with my mayoral duties but the Green Arrow is off duty as Star City’s vigilante defense for the foreseeable future,” Oliver announced, glancing at John apologetically. He hadn’t intended to blindside the man - it had just...happened. 

Oliver’s concentration could not be split. Not when Felicity’s safety was on the line. He had to focus on her, and her alone. Let the trio of know it alls take over the city’s protection. 

Glancing to John, he found the other man nodding before he looked at the other three. “The same goes for Spartan. It’s on you three now.” 

The room fell quiet as all five of them considered the implications of what Oliver and John had just announced. It was Dinah who broke the growing stillness first. 

“...We’ll think about helping you,” she stated brusquely but even as she turned to go, Curtis snagged Dinah by her forearm and the two shared a long look that seemed more than a little tense. Finally, Dinah wrenched away from him and with a backwards look at Diggle and Oliver, she stormed off to the elevator. With a cursory glance at the bunker, Rene followed her, leaving Curtis behind him. Despite his obvious discomfort, Curtis remained where he stood even as his teammates departed on the elevator, leaving him solo in supposedly hostile territory.

_ Some teammates _ , Oliver thought snidely before pushing the idea from his brain, allowing him to focus on Curtis. 

“It’s nothing definitive but… We were pursuing a lead that I think might be worth chasing down, given...everything,” Curtis explained haltingly. “We have reason to believe that someone in a high ranking capacity within the city’s political hierarchy may be dirty. Or unwittingly they’re being used by whoever is trying to assume control now that Cayden James is off the board.”

Oliver had already had his eyes on Curtis but when the man said this latest bit of news, Oliver had leaped onto his feet, his eyes flashing. “Do you know who?” 

“Not yet. Dinah’s chasing down some leads but she hasn’t found anything definitive yet. And with the city’s money in the wind, she decided to prioritize that and put this on the back burner… I think you’re right to think Felicity may be being set up.” 

Silence extended between the trio of men then and Oliver leveled a stony gaze on the man that he had trained and taken to the streets alongside. The man who, now? Could barely meet his eye. 

“Thank you, Curtis.” 

Curtis plainly had not been expecting that response. He blinked in shock and then nodded faintly. “I’ll send over all the files we’ve got on it,” he offered, his hands fluttering nervously in front of him only for Oliver to shake his head. 

“Umm. Curtis if you could… I don’t think Digg or I are capable of accessing some of the servers Felicity used for running down this stuff… Anything you would be willing to do to simplify matters for us… We-  _ I  _ \- would appreciate,” Oliver elaborated, rubbing the back of his neck as he haltingly tried to entreat Curtis to assist them, at least rudimentarily. Curtis nodded slowly, glancing from Oliver to Diggle and then back again.

“Sure… I’ll send you an email with everything I’ve got.”

“And Curtis?” The other man stopped on a dime and spun back to look at Oliver, his brows raised in surprise. “We’re going to send you everything we’ve got on Black Siren… Find her. Find the money Cayden James extorted from us,” Oliver paused to wait for a beat as he turned and began to walk away and back to the vodka he had sought refuge in with Diggle. “The city’s counting on you. Don’t fuck it up.” 

Without another word, the former Team Arrow member disappeared. True to his word, Curtis sent over everything his team had but not even all of Curtis’ reluctantly offered help could make heads or tails of the leads. It was obvious that  _ someone  _ was amassing power in the vacuum that Cayden James’ arrest and subsequent death had created. But who that someone was and precisely who they had on their side remained a mystery. It wasn’t Earth 2 Laurel, though that would have simplified matters if it had been. Oliver, however, wasn’t ruling her out as a co-conspirator; he just didn’t think she was the one leading the charge.

One thing, however, became abundantly clear to Oliver: Whoever had framed Felicity? It wasn’t Cayden James. Which meant that whoever it was? They were still at large. Which meant none of this was over. And that meant that he and John were flying blind, without their beloved Overwatch having their back in the field. 

If the goal behind framing Felicity had been to tie Team Arrow’s hands, then they’d certainly accomplished what they set out to do. Without Felicity, he and Diggle, while certainly not useless, were nowhere near as effective as they needed to be. And while he’d meant what he said about not protecting the city, Oliver would be damned if he gave up the hood entirely.

To save his wife, he was going to have to become something else. And he would need every one of his Green Arrow skills to do that. And maybe a few skills belonging to some other, more technologically minded folks. Fortunately, he knew a few of those he could reach out to.

The three weeks following Felicity’s arraignment provided ample proof of how integral she had become to their success as vigilantes; not since his days going at it alone as the Hood had Oliver felt so ineffectual. He and Diggle were essentially fighting with one hand tied behind their back without Felicity on the comms. They had both come to rely on her. And the three weeks they spent without her only underscored how critical a member of the team she was. 

Without her, Oliver knew that plenty of things were falling through the cracks - he wasn’t exactly feeling confident in Curtis, Rene, and Dinah’s abilities to protect the city. And nor was he confident in his own abilities to track down the person who had set Felicity up. He just prayed that he and Diggle were capable enough to find the evidence they needed to have the charges against Felicity dropped. And  _ when  _ that happened (not ‘if’, because he refused to entertain the notion that she might be thrown in prison), then Oliver, John, and Felicity would work together to bring to justice the true perpetrators of the crimes for which Felicity was now accused. 

\-----

For the three weeks following her arraignment, Felicity had endeavored to keep her spirits up. She had clung to hope like a shipwreck victim clinging to flotsam. Her innocence buoyed her even in her darkest moments. A falsified file dump of fake evidence was  _ not  _ going to be her undoing. However miserable this time felt now, it would be a distant memory someday, hopefully very soon. A quirky anecdote for her to retell; someday, she and Oliver would look back and laugh at the memories of the year they had both stumbled into legal troubles. 

Jean had given Felicity every indication to believe her case was strong, while the prosecution’s case was built on a flimsy few files that any digital forensics specialist with two brain cells would be able to tell had been doctored. She hadn’t done the crimes she was being accused of - so whatever was in those files? It was all 100% faked. Felicity was itching to get her hands on it to prove her own innocence but obviously that wasn’t an option. Jean already had shoulder tapped several prominent digital forensic specialists based locally and had them lined up to testify on Felicity’s behalf. 

One  _ good  _ thing about her confinement? She had ample time to think. Felicity decided by a few hours into day one that Jean was an actual angel on Earth. Taking on not only Oliver’s case, but Felicity’s as well? Sure, she was being paid, but knowing what she did about Oliver, it still surprised Felicity that Jean would willingly subject herself to further legal entanglement with the Smoak-Queens.  _ When I get out of here, I’ve got to send her a fruit basket. Or whatever is better than a fruit basket. Flowers? Chocolates? What’s the appropriate ‘thanks for getting me out of jail’ gift for an attorney?  _

(By day two, Felicity decided to get Jean a very nice watch but by day eight she switched her stance to an espresso machine. The espresso machine fell by the wayside by day fifteen, when Felicity resolved to get Jean a  _ really  _ nice purse. But by day twenty, she was solidly set on a bottle of  _ very  _ expensive wine. Felicity  _ really  _ missed wine…)

Through real-life-angel-on-Earth Jean, Oliver was able to get word to Felicity, though he himself had been barred from visiting her by Captain Hill in order to protect the integrity of the investigation. While every part of Felicity ached with the absence of him, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that someone on the outside was looking out for Oliver in her stead. The desire to see him was stronger than she could express but if Felicity’s understanding was correct, Oliver coming to visit her would be something of a breach of protocol. And the  _ last  _ thing she wanted was for him to do something dumb on her account. Thankfully, Captain Hill seemed to be all over the situation and she appeared to be working hard to protect Oliver and his mayoral role. 

At least  _ someone  _ was - Felicity very much doubted Oliver was thinking of himself right now. Knowing him as well as she did, Felicity was all too aware how easily he could spiral in a situation such as this. At least with Captain Hill keeping him from breaking the law or flaunting protocol, Felicity didn’t have to worry about him losing office on her account. It was a comfort to her to see that Hill seemed to recognize how good for the city Oliver was and she seemed intent on protecting him as much as possible.

Loyalty to someone working hard to do what was right. Shocking how that was such a novel concept these days. 

Felicity  _ hadn’t  _ heard a word from Oliver via Jean regarding the splintered half of the team. If Rene, Dinah, or Curtis was aware of her situation, they were apparently not working with Oliver and Diggle to set it right. Unsurprising, but it still stung. Felicity contented herself with the knowledge that if her old teammates wouldn’t help her, at least others would.

Others such as the prosecution, as it turned out. 

Through the game of telephone that became her only means of communication with the outside world, Felicity learned from Jean that Oliver had spoken with Captain Hill about the prosecution’s case against Felicity. Hill had assured Oliver that DA Armand was trying to keep the entire process of Felicity’s arrest, arraignment, and prosecution on the up and up so that it could not be turned around and used against Oliver down the line. Thus denying her bail, so no one could claim she had received preferential treatment. 

Felicity took some small measure of consolation in knowing that the DA had not, in fact,  _ wanted  _ to deny her bail, but that Armand had apparently only been looking out for Oliver’s best interests. After so many years of being underappreciated and undervalued by the city’s high ranking offices and the citizens themselves, Felicity was unable to suppress her joy at learning that  _ finally  _ people were starting to see Oliver for the man and the hero that he was. The man and the hero that  _ she  _ saw each and every time she looked at him.

It brought her solace to know that, even without her at his side, Oliver had people like Hill and Armand watching his back, working alongside him in the trenches of his daytime job, toiling to keep the city and its people safe. And of course, as far as his nighttime job went? He had Diggle watching his six. And there was no one Felicity trusted to do that more than John.

So, despite the anguish she felt at being separated from Oliver and William, Felicity had done her best to rise above. And by and large? She’d succeeded. Had she fallen into dark moments where the fear and the uncertainty gnawed at her peace of mind and threatened to send her tumbling down dark, twisting, deep rabbit holes? Certainly. Was she utterly exhausted from the energy it took her to keep her hopes up? Absolutely and she had the dark circles under her eyes to prove it. Did she sometimes swing from being upbeat and cheerful to being morose and depressed? Yes. Frequently. But at the end of the day, Felicity had placed her trust in the system and in the city’s staunch guardians to do right by her. 

Felicity Smoak-Queen was one of the good guys and she took pride in that. Her fellow good guys would see to it that she didn’t wind up wrongfully imprisoned with the real villains. Though, technically she already  _ was  _ locked up with the real villains. Thanks to Jean’s injunction on her behalf though, Felicity was spared any fear of crossing paths with any of the female criminals she had helped to jail. Instead, she was being kept in a private cell, away from the general prison population - for her own safety. The official reasoning behind Jean’s injunction posited that Felicity needed to be kept in a private cell because of Oliver’s pending trial and accusations of him being the Green Arrow. Prisoners in jail because of the Green Arrow might hear that the alleged Green Arrow’s wife was in prison and seek to do her harm. 

And of course, there were the people that  _ actually  _ knew her involvement with the Green Arrow to consider. Though her identity as the Green Arrow’s tech support meant she was much less visible to the evil doers she helped Oliver put in jail, she could think of several faces she would rather not encounter while she was biding her time in custody. All the more reason to be grateful for Jean and her injunction (maybe Felicity ought to get her an entire  _ case  _ of expensive wine rather than a bottle). 

Even with the protection that the injunction offered her though, Felicity had more than one nightmare of finding herself face to face with the city’s worst offenders while behind bars and each time, she awoke bathed in sweat, her heart thundering and the sounds of her dream self’s screams echoing in her ears. 

She didn’t need to tempt that fate. Nope. She’d ride out her time here, go to her trial, be declared ‘not guilty’ and off on her merry way she would go. Felicity had every intention of making Oliver stop at the grocery store before they got home from the courthouse. When she’d told him she wanted poptarts, she’d been 100% serious. The minute she was out of this hideous orange jumpsuit and back on the bustling sidewalks of Star City, Felicity was getting herself poptarts and stuffing her face with them. Then she was going home, wrapping William into a ten minute hug (at minimum, god she couldn’t wait to hug him), having a glass of wine, and as soon as she and Oliver were alone she was going to positively devour the man. 

Three weeks without him? That was unheard of. Never, in a time of them being actually together, had they gone  _ three weeks _ without each other. And she was definitely not a fan of it now. Once she got him back in her arms she wasn’t letting him leave the apartment for at least a week. Bare minimum. 

And so, Felicity waited. And hoped. And fantasized. Three long weeks without her husband and her son had passed slowly but she’d managed to make it through, content and safe in the knowledge that this was temporary. She’d be going home.  _ Soon.  _ Putting her trust squarely in the hands of those who had sworn to protect the city and the people that lived in it.

And then the day of her trial had arrived and everything…  _ everything  _ had gone horribly, heinously wrong. 

The digital forensic specialist had sworn under oath that there had been no tampering - the digital fingerprints were really and truly Felicity’s. There was no sign of foul play. His professional opinion? Felicity had committed the crimes she was being charged with. The DA had raked her across the coals, painting her as a criminal mastermind. And while Jean had argued  _ spectacularly _ and objected to lines of questioning and several of DA Armand’s baseless tirades, the judge had overruled her time and again. 

And suddenly the sense of hope that all this while had burned within her chest began to flicker. Each angry word hurled from Armand at the jury was like a gale force wind and in the face of that? How was any spark of hope to remain lit? And when the jury delivered their speedy, unanimous verdict and the word  _ guilty  _ fell from the spokeswoman’s mouth? 

The light had guttered out; extinguished. Doused. Snuffed. 

When Felicity was delivered back to her cell after the trial, she was a broken creature. Devoid of hope, reeling with the sharp sting of Armand’s betrayal, decimated by the rushed goodbye she’d had to say to Oliver and William, Felicity was so thoroughly crushed as to be unrecognizable. Her eyes bore the vacant, feral gleam of a prey animal cornered by the snapping jaws of the beast and when she fell upon the mattress back at her cell, she seemed to shatter like glass.

_ Guilty _ . The word was shackled to her soul, leaving her positively bereft. 

One word. One tiny, six letter word had stripped her of everything. Hope. A future. The ability to be a wife and a stepmother and a teammate and a business partner. Within the span of two syllables, every scrap of potential that tomorrow and the following days had once held for her had been ripped away. 

The shock had not worn off with time, nor had the pain. 

She would have to endure another week without Oliver and William before her sentencing. And then? Then she would find out just how many soul shattering, heart crushing weeks and months and maybe  _ years  _ she would have to endure without them.

How was she going to do this? Three weeks without her family had been nearly ruinous. Three  _ months  _ or - god forbid - three  _ years _ without them? That would leave her emotionally bankrupt, not to mention that it would leave her soul positively destitute. And more than a few years?  _ No.  _ She couldn’t even begin to fathom that.

As Felicity clung to the thin sheets on her mattress, she began to shake violently as the shock began to give way to terror and denial. Live without her family? Live without her husband and her stepson and - oh god,  _ her mother _ . What would Donna Smoak say? 

The shaking became still more pronounced and Felicity’s teeth began to chatter, her whole body gone so cold that her skin had turned ashen. She couldn’t go to prison. Sure, she was technically already here. But if this became permanent? Would they let her stay in a private cell or would they kick her out into the general population? There were people in prison - people who she had helped to put there - who would try to hurt her if she were placed with thim. They’d likely try to kill her, even. She had to get out of here. But how? She was no Oliver. She couldn’t parkour or fight or sneak her way out of this. 

Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as the sobs came hard and fast, wracking her entire, slight figure as she tried to ride the waves of her own emotions. But the storm raging within her was far too intense to be tamed. 

Losing Oliver and William? That… that was  _ unthinkable _ . Carrying on with her life without them? That was...illogical. Implausible.

Impossible. 

Felicity’s shivering went on for some time; at some point, even breathing became difficult and she found herself clawing at the neckline of her orange uniform to try and get air. She was suffocating. And with every passing moment it seemed that the walls were closing in around her. Her skin turned clammy and she was suddenly bathed in sweat as she crested another wave of heart stopping panic. 

What if they gave her the maximum sentence for her crimes? She’d be in here for  _ years _ . 

She’d miss everything. Her and Oliver’s anniversary. William graduating high school and going to college. She’d miss him going to Prom. Having his first date. She’d miss his college acceptance letter (and the scholarships that would obviously flood in). She’d miss seeing Oliver lead the city to new heights as Mayor. She’d miss birthdays. Christmases and Hannukahs. She’d miss getting to see her mother be a step grandmother to William. Her dreams of changing the world with her company? Dashed.

The world as she knew it was at an end. The world - everyone she loved - would have to move on without her. And the Earth would keep spinning, they would learn to live without her. But she’d be trapped in here, unmoving, unchanging. Stagnant. And as she was stuck here, pining for them, longing for them, loving them from afar? 

They’d be carrying on with their lives and learning just how easy it was to get by without Felicity Smoak around. They’d discover it was all too easy to move and and move beyond her. Her father had done it; he’d walked out the door and he hadn’t looked back. Not really. He’d found life without her so much simpler and so much more preferable. What if Oliver did the same? 

_ Oliver _ . 

He deserved better than to be trapped in a marriage with a ghost. How was she supposed to set him free though? He might fight at first but after a few years, would he still want to be married to a face he could only see through glass on visitation days? She loved him more than she could say - love was too small a word for what they had. But when you loved someone that deeply… you had to prioritize them over yourself. And as Felicity lay curled on her bed, one immutable truth struck her. 

She loved Oliver. Deeply. Profoundly. All consumingly. And because of the strength of the love she bore him? She would need to let him go. She didn’t want him to waste years of his life on her. He had already lost so much. Felicity could not let her failings and shortcomings cost him still more. 

She was going to let him go. It was the only way. And even as the thought crossed her mind, Felicity’s stomach gave a terrific heave and she had to fling herself off of the bed and across the cell. She made it to the toilet just in time to empty her stomach contents into it. The churning in her gut went on as wave after wave of nausea passed over her before it finally ebbed to a dull discomfort in the background and Felicity sat back from the toilet and leaned against the wall, sweaty and sapped of her strength. 

In purging her stomach, she also seemed to have purged herself of some of the dark, spiraling thoughts she’d been so swept up in. Though still distraught, puking her guts up had apparently also given her a bit of clarity and some perspective. 

She was innocent. Any evidence to the contrary had to have been faked. Which meant that she had every reason to believe Jean could and would work to have her conviction overturned. Armand had clearly flipped on her, though why he would do such a thing was a mystery to her. In Felicity’s humble opinion, having your boss’ innocent wife thrown in prison was a quick way to throw your career into jeopardy. Whatever Armand’s reasons though, he was now her biggest clue to help her learn who had set her up. He was a starting point for Oliver and Diggle to continue the search for those  _ actually  _ responsible. 

All was not entirely lost. As badly as things had gone, she had to hold out hope that they could be corrected. She could not - would not - allow herself to believe that she was going to spend the next five years in this place, let alone the more than twenty years that the maximum sentence might bring. 

No judge would approve the maximum sentence for a first time ‘offender’ who was also a stepmother, a wife, and a contributing member of society. That would be ludicrous. 

_ Would it though?  _ Doubt whispered in her ear.  _ Or is that precisely the kind of thing this city would do? _

With a shiver, Felicity pushed the heel of her hand to her forehead and tried to clear her mind with little success. Even… even if she  _ did  _ receive a long sentence and she  _ was  _ stuck here for five years… if the tables were turned, she would wait for Oliver. It wouldn’t be easy, for the force with which she’d miss him each and every day, but she would do it. She didn’t doubt that he would do the same for her. 

And if she should get more than four times that sentence? 

Well. That wasn’t a bridge she was ready to cross just yet. But she would not let her misfortunes ruin Oliver’s life as well as hers. Of that much, she was certain. 

Pushing herself up onto unsteady feet, Felicity tried to inhale slowly through her nose but no sooner had she done so than did her stomach give a sudden, savage twist, her muscles clenching so painfully that it had her dropping to her knees, her head over the toilet just in the nick of time. After another few rounds of retching, Felicity half crawled, half crept back across the cell to her bed, painfully aware that never in her life had a six foot by eight foot space seemed so immeasurably large a distance. 

As she dragged herself back onto the mattress, wobbly and wet with sweat, she heard a voice she didn’t recognize clear its throat from the hallway beyond. Blinking wearily, she stared at the silhouette outside the entrance to her cell and found she had company. 

“Post verdict panic attack?” The guard - a woman who looked to be in her late thirties with curly dark hair - eyed Felicity kindly. Still quivering, Felicity was about to respond when the guard continued. “That’s option A. There’s also option b, feeling flu-ish, and option c, pregnant or option d, none of the above?”

Felicity felt a shard of ice lodge itself in her heart when the guard said the word ‘ _ pregnant’  _ and it took all her energy to school her expression as she met the woman’s eyes while her heart seemed to thunder in her ears.

“Definitely o-option A. P-Panic attack,” Felicity confirmed breathily, scooting herself up into a seated position while she forced herself  _ not _ to touch a questioning hand to her stomach. No. She wasn’t doing that. This wasn’t happening. This? Her being sick? This was not... _ that.  _ She couldn’t even bring herself to  _ think  _ the ‘p’ word. So what if she was now racking her brain trying to think of the last time she’d gotten her period? That didn’t mean... _ that. _

“Happens to a lot of folks after they land here. Try focusing on one object. Or, if you aren’t hyperventilating, try to exercise, that’s supposed to help,” the guard offered with a shrug. “You’ll get acclimated in no time. Just don’t be stupid and you’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, right,” Felicity responded, her mouth gone suddenly very, very dry.  _ Don’t be stupid _ . A little late for that. 

Frak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So THAT is a thing. I didn't tag for pregnancy because I wanted to surprise you guys. So...Surprise! Felicity's in for one heck of a ride. A prison pregnancy - I couldn't resist! Thanks for reading & I hope you guys enjoyed the update! :)


	4. Chapter 4

The week between her trial and her sentencing was one of the worst weeks of Felicity’s life. Ever since the guard had dropped the ‘p’ word, Felicity had been unable to shake the nagging fear that she might actually be pregnant. 

She hadn’t had a period since well before she’d been taken into custody. Which wasn’t necessarily unheard of - she’d stressed herself out in college so badly once that her period had been late by two weeks. But Felicity’s period this time was late by more than a week or two. At this point? She was more than three weeks late. And she hadn’t given it any thought, what with everything else going on but now that she had realized? She couldn’t stop replaying the last weeks in her head. 

Ever since she’d been taken into custody, she’d been feeling exhausted, the kind of fatigue that just persisted no matter what she did. She’d written it off as stress but what if it was her body adjusting to pregnancy and the energetic strain of growing a tiny human? And then there was the throwing up; since the evening following her trial, Felicity’s stomach had not settled. She’d vomited daily, sometimes multiple times a day, at various hours of the day and night. Why the hell was it morning sickness if it happened all the time?!

No. This wasn’t morning sickness. She wasn’t pregnant. She could _not_ be pregnant and in prison. That...could _not_ be a thing. 

But Felicity found herself turning back the clock to the time before she’d been arrested. The weeks after her and Oliver’s wedding had been… well… ‘decadent’ would not have been inaccurate. Unable to go on a honeymoon, she and Oliver had made it a point to carve out time for the two of them each day. And while sometimes that time had taken the shape of family movie nights holding hands and cuddling on the couch, or perhaps an innocent makeout session during a stolen moment of privacy, more often than not? Carving out time for one another had consisted of lots of nakedness. 

So much nakedness. 

And while she was ordinarily _diligent_ about birth control, with all of the stress and strain from Cayden James and the fracture between the team? It was possible that she had maybe forgotten on more than one occasion to take her pill. And it was also possible that she and Oliver hadn’t precisely been diligent about condoms, sometimes far too swept up in the moment, or in too much of a hurry to hit pause when things got going.

Maintaining a healthy sex life while sharing an apartment with a preteen (who was very nearly a teenager)? Yeah, not easy. You had to capitalize on those moments when they weren’t home and it was just the two of you. Fortunately, she and Oliver had mastered the art of finding time for each other while William was at school, clubs, or visiting friends.

But now that ‘skill’ was possibly coming back to bite her in the ass. Pregnant? And in _prison?_ Oh god this was bad. 

Even thinking back to the morning of her arrest, Felicity could remember poking her spoon at the carton of mint chip ice cream and finding the taste to be less than to her liking. Weren’t changing taste buds an early symptom of pregnancy? 

Changing taste buds. Fatigue. Morning sickness. A seriously late period. The evidence felt rather damning. But then again, was it? Sure, she’d had mood swings but for crying out loud, she was in prison, facing a possibly extensive sentence - surely mood swings were justified! 

If they were in fact mood swings and not her body dealing with surging hormones. Oh _frak._

All week, Felicity was fighting against her own better sensibilities, refusing to acknowledge the possibility that she could be pregnant but equally unable to deny the rather impossible to ignore signs. Halfway through the week, her breasts became tender and she was convinced she was about to get her period and put the matter to rest. But no period came; instead, Felicity found herself experiencing wilder still mood swings. 

The night before her sentencing, Felicity curled up in her bed, her breasts sore, her back aching, and her stomach rolling. No sooner had she found a comfortable position than did she realize she hadn’t brushed her teeth. Looking across the tiny cell to the toothbrush she’d been given upon arrival, Felicity began to openly weep. It was as she was sobbing that she realized how _utterly_ ridiculous it was to be crying over a toothbrush and that this? This probably constituted the sort of mood swings they referred to when discussing pregnancy symptoms. 

Which meant this was yet another pregnancy symptom to add to her long and ever growing list. The list which had become rather long and altogether impossible to ignore.

“What are we going to do?” Felicity whispered to herself in the dark, staring at the ceiling of her cell with teary eyes. Despite her fears and doubts, Felicity smoothed her right hand across her stomach, letting her fingers splay protectively across the space where, even now, she could no longer deny _something_ was happening. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to imagine a child with light brown hair and stormy blue eyes, a perfect miniature of Oliver and she felt a wave of renewed emotion wash over her.

Getting pregnant...that had been _nowhere_ in the plans. Not right now. Not with Oliver facing down vigilante charges. Not with Felicity trying to get a company up off the ground. Not with their little family still learning how it fit together. Oh god, William. What was he going to say, how was he going to feel about all this? If and when she and Oliver had decided to have a child, Felicity had imagined sitting William down and explaining to him that a baby was in no way an attempt to replace him and that Felicity would always, _always_ love him and consider him a son. How was she supposed to drop a bomb like this into his life without being able to have that discussion? How would he know how important he was to her, how irreplaceable he was?

And then there was Oliver. What in god’s name was she going to tell him? 

_‘Sorry I got arrested and might spend the next few years to decades in prison. By the way, I’m super knocked up. Start getting the nursery ready now and enjoy being a single dad to two while I’m gone!’_

He’d told her she was the best part of him. But right now? Felicity felt like the worst thing ever to happen to him. She had upended their life together by getting arrested and now? Now she was going to blow it to smithereens by telling him she was carrying his child. She’d always pictured finding out they were pregnant and surprising him with the news in some sweet, intimate way. She’d envisioned ultrasound appointments together, ensuring that Oliver was there and involved every step of the way, able to experience all the things he’d been denied involvement in with William. And now? 

Now they were both going to go through this utterly alone. And it was her fault. 

By the time the prison guards arrived to escort her to her sentencing, Felicity was listless and forlorn. She followed along after them without complaint, focusing solely on breathing and surviving from one moment to the next. By the time they arrived at the courthouse, she was feeling practically numb. Not even the blast of cool, fresh morning air was enough to jar her out of the funk she’d fallen into. 

But as she was brought into the courtroom, an explosion of noise and blinding flashes of light shook her from her daze. The courtroom was packed with standing room only; paparazzi crowded the edges of the space and every seat in the place was filled. Her eyes rounded as she took in so many faces and she couldn’t mask her surprise at some of them. Curtis, Rene, and Dinah were present. She could see Quentin and Thea but it was the figure standing next to Thea that threw Felicity for a loop. _Roy?_ Her eyes widened all the more as she caught his eye and he gave her an encouraging look and she couldn’t help the rush of emotion his appearance elicited.

When he had returned or why, she had no idea. But seeing him here was a much needed boon. Even if it brought her to the verge of tears. These frakking hormones were going to do her in. And she hadn’t even dared to look at her husband or son yet. Her eyes lingered on John and Lyla, who she mouthed a silent _‘thank you’_ to, before Felicity processed an unexpected attendee. Her mother looked tense and traumatized and as Felicity drew near, Donna reached a hand out to cup Felicity’s face tenderly. 

“Oh baby girl,” Donna whispered with heartbreaking tenderness and Felicity felt her eyes prick with tears. 

“Hi Mom,” she whispered, accepting her mother’s quick kiss on the cheek before Felicity finally allowed herself to look at her guys. 

Oliver was her port in the storm; the moment she found him, standing upright, ramrod straight with hungry eyes in the row directly behind the defendant’s table, she felt the barest sense that things would be okay. She didn’t have a clue how. But she knew Oliver. And she trusted him. He would find a way to make things right and keep her safe - he always did. 

Tearing her eyes from her husband, Felicity’s gaze moved to William sitting alongside him and she felt her stomach give a nervous flip as she looked at her stepson.His cheeks were tear stained, his eyes bloodshot and she could all too easily envision the tears he had shed before coming here. But as he faced her now, he did so with a stoicism and a poise that made her so proud she nearly dissolved into tears as she was led over to the table and freed from her handcuffs. Felicity was capable only of a whispered word of greeting to Jean before she felt herself leaning towards the boys, reaching a hand out to each of them so she could hold them both at once. 

“Hey you two,” Felicity offered nervously, swallowing thickly as she raked her eyes across each of them, drinking them in as she tried to commit every smile line and every nuance of expression to memory, unsure how long it would be before she saw them again after today. “I missed you guys,” she added quietly, not daring to look at Oliver as she said the words. Still clinging to her small family, Felicity had the dizzying realization that this might be the only time the family of three (soon to be four) would be altogether without prison glass between them. That thought had her gulping for air, on the verge of hyperventilating. 

“Felicity?” Oliver’s voice was a balm and even with the concern edging his voice, she couldn’t help but relax at hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Hmm?” Felicity returned in a quiet hum, trying to put on a brave face and failing miserably. 

“It’s going to be alright. We’re going to figure this out. I promise you,” Oliver vowed, his eyes darkening as he swore this to her, his thumb rubbing soothingly across her knuckles as he continued to hold fast to her hand. She nodded faintly, feeling overwhelmed by the undeniable force of his love for her. Her mother had said once that Felicity and Oliver would find themselves in each other. And she’d been right. They had. But now, the idea of a life without Oliver, without their son? Felicity was losing the parts of herself that she’d come to hold so dear: wife, stepmother, confidante, partner. 

If Oliver was promising her that it would be alright? She had to trust in that. She trusted in him - always had, always would. 

But even as Felicity tried to cling to the few, precious moments of joy with her family that today’s sentencing afforded her, she felt a shift in the room as the double doors at the back of the courtroom opened and the noise level in the room dropped by several octaves. Still holding onto Oliver and William as she was, Felicity’s grip tightened dramatically as a line of familiar faces swept into view. 

DA Armand was in the lead and the sight of him made Felicity’s pulse quicken with rage at the reminder of how he had thrown her under the bus at her trial. Clearly, everything he'd said to Oliver about wanting to keep her case 'above reproach' had been a lie. Behind him, Felicity felt a wave of shock as Captain Hill entered the room, her gaze sweeping over Oliver and Felicity as if they weren’t even there. But it was the last person in the line of new, last minute arrivals that made Felicity’s heartbeat turn erratic and her blood go cold.

Swaggering along behind Armand and Hill was Ricardo Diaz himself, looking every bit the cat that ate the canary. As Hill shooed two of her officers out of their seats, she gestured to the open spots and Diaz seated himself pointedly behind the prosecutor’s table, but not before he shot Felicity and Oliver a feral grin.

“O-Oliver,” Felicity stammered, her whole body beginning to tremble like a leaf. Even as she said his name, she seemed to waver on her feet and she felt Oliver’s strong hands come to support her as he held her up, whispering urgently to her.

“Felicity. Felicity, listen to me, we’re going to figure this out.” 

“Oliver,” she gasped, her eyes starting to slide back across the courtroom to where Diaz sat, laughing and talking with Hill and Armand. Everything about her trial was becoming so suddenly, _painfully_ clear. The DA was in Diaz’s pocket. And judging by the looks of it? So was Hill. 

_Oh god. Oh godohgodohgod._

“Hey, Felicity look at me,” Oliver insisted, prompting her to meet his stormy gaze. “I don’t know how he did it. But I’m going to undo this. You hear me? I am not going to let this happen.” 

“Oliver, Armand and Hill-”

“I’m gonna kill them,” Oliver growled, glancing across the way, the muscles in his jaw tense as he watched the DA and Police Captain rub elbows with the monster of a man they had been hunting. And while she sensed that he was just using a figure of speech, with Oliver? That was also sort of a possibility.

“You are not going to kill anyone on my account,” Felicity muttered under her breath.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Oliver returned in a low, protective tone that had Felicity’s eyes locked on his in a heartbeat. The unspoken ' _won't be the last'_ hung in the air between them. 

“No, it wouldn’t,” she admitted, remembering with vivid clarity the encounter with the Count and the three swift arrows Oliver had lodged in his chest. 

And they hadn’t even been _dating_ back then. Good lord, what would he do to someone in the name of defending his _wife?_ Her stomach bottomed out as another thought hit her: what would he do when he learned she was very probably _pregnant_? Murder would be doing Armand and Hill a kindness - some of those Bratva learned torture tactics might be inclined to leap out and for the first time in her life, Felicity felt a trifle concerned about just what Oliver might be capable of, if properly motivated.

“Oliver, how’s that going to look with the charges being leveled against _you_ ,” Felicity reminded him weakly and Oliver growled under his breath.

“I don’t _care_ how it looks or what it means for _me_ , Felicity. They are in bed with Diaz. At the very least I have to fire them. And then later? ...Have the Green Arrow pay them a visit to find out what they know.” 

Before she could even begin to unpack how catastrophically _bad_ that plan was, however, the judge swept into the courtroom and with a bang of his gavel, the sentencing began. And while Felicity knew she ought to be paying attention, she found her attention constantly diverting back to where Diaz was seated alongside Hill, watching the proceedings with a muted smile. 

_Diaz?_ How was that possible? How had they managed to survive Cayden James, only to be done in by the likes of Ricardo Diaz?! It made no sense. And how had he faked her digital fingerprints so convincingly? She still couldn’t understand it. Nor could she understand how he’d managed to get the DA and the police captain on his side. 

“Your honor, the defense is going to argue that Mrs. Smoak-Queen has been a model citizen. They’ll say she has ties to the community, she’s a pillar of society, a wife and a mother. But the reality is, these offenses are hardly Mrs. Smoak-Queen’s first. She had a relationship in college with a convicted, self proclaimed ‘hacktivist’ by the name of Cooper Seldon. Are we really to believe Mrs. Smoak-Queen was uninvolved in his hacking that erased an untold amount of student loan debt?!”

“Objection, your honor!”” Jean rocketed to her feet with a snarl but the judge raised a hand and after a moment’s deliberation, he responded.

“Overruled, Ms. Loring.”

With a smug smirk, Armand resumed his train of thought.

“I hardly think a sane person would believe Mrs. Smoak-Queen had nothing to do with Mr. Seldon’s actions. She’s not a first time offender, your honor - she’s a repeat offender with a blatant disregard for the rule of order. The prosecution will site her young age and potential for reform as reason to lighten her sentence. But if anything, her young age should terrify us - this means she potentially has _decades_ of terrorizing Star City’s citizens left in her lifetime.” 

“YOUR HONOR!” Jean shot to her feet once more, breathless as she level a cold stare at the judge. “Objection.” 

The judge was quiet a moment before he relented. “Sustained.” 

Armand held his hands up and paced in front of the bench, looking entirely too worked up. “The prosecution will say Felicity Smoak-Queen has ties to the community. But I would argue she has tied herself to this city; she has chosen Star City because our recent run-ins with disaster have created a vulnerable demographic for her to prey upon. Her former company - which, by the way, she inherited through the rather suspicious death of her former boss - is based here. But her business was entirely self serving. When Mrs. Smoak-Queen was paralyzed, what were Palmer Tech employees forced to work on? An implant that could make her walk. And is that implant out making the world a better place? No. It’s sitting in her spine, helping her and her only. Mrs. Smoak-Queen cares about this city as much as any of us care for the roaches in the sewers.” 

“OBJECTION!” Jean was practically hoarse from roaring the word and her hands shook with rage but she was once more casually dismissed when the judge muttered a quiet ‘overruled’. 

“Just one last thing, your honor,” Armand noted quietly, touching a finger to his lips as he pretended to think. “Mrs. Smoak-Queen, according to her attorney, is a devoted stepmother and for this reason, Ms. Loring wants you to give her a lighter sentence. But shouldn’t we all be concerned about the kind of influence that someone like Felicity Smoak-Queen could be on a child? According to school records, William Clayton-Queen has shown a recent aptitude for technology and math. Sound like anyone else you know?” Armand reflected, coming to a standstill as he leaned relaxedly against the prosecutor’s table. “All of these things should be considered as aggravating factors to push for Mrs. Smoak-Queen to receive the stiffest possible sentence.” 

As Armand sat down, Felicity became vaguely aware of the fact that she was drenched in a cold sweat and as she turned to look at Jean, she could tell the woman was stunned.

“Jean...what just happened?” Felicity whispered hoarsely, only for Jean to look at her, horrified. 

“Felicity...it’s like someone leaked my entire defense to him. He just line by line dismantled my entire closing argument,” Jean explained hurriedly, shuffling through her papers as she rose, looking more than a little flustered. Felicity, however, felt her heart sink.

Of course Jean’s closing argument had been dismantled. Because Armand or Hill or one of their minions - at Diaz’s beckoning - had likely gotten their hands on it ahead of time and literally gone line by line down it to discredit her. If Felicity had held out any hopes of receiving a light sentence, she felt them now evaporate into thin air. She’d been a fool to hold out hope this long. Besides, if Diaz had Armand and Hill in his pocket, who knew where the corruption stopped? Had the jury been in his pocket? Felicity suddenly had a strong sense that they had. Was the judge? Oh god. Suddenly, each of the judge’s ‘overruled’ declarations replayed in her head.

The judge was in Diaz’s pocket too.

“Your honor, the prosecution paints a _very_ compelling tale. But that is precisely what it is - a tale. Mrs.Smoak-Queen was never accused of any crimes in relation to Cooper Seldon’s actions. And the last time I checked, this is a country where you are innocent until proven guilty. Holding the actions of someone else against her would be a blatant violation of her rights and of our country’s core values,” Jean began, a little unevenly though she started picking up steam. 

“Mrs. Smoak-Queen has been through a great deal in her life. She is the child of a single mother who earned a scholarship to MIT and graduated summa cum laude. After college, she was employed at Queen Consolidated and was considered a model employee. Here, I have a signed affidavit from one Walter Steele, who describes Mrs. Smoak-Queen as being of the ‘highest possible moral fibre’...”

And so it went. Jean gave an impassioned argument in Felicity’s defense but even as she watched, Felicity could see the judge had gone glossy eyed. There was little point - Jean was wasting her breath. Felicity knew now, knew it deep in her bones, that her fate had been sealed before she’d ever set foot in this courtroom. The minute Hill and the SCPD had broken down the apartment door? All of this had already been in motion. She’d been playing catch up in a race she didn’t know she was running and now? Now she was about to lose spectacularly. 

It was with a heavy heart that Felicity rose to her feet when Jean prompted her to do so; they’d discussed the importance of Felicity speaking on her own behalf, as a final means of convincing the judge to give her a lighter sentence. But watching the judge, Felicity knew there was no hope of that. But she still spoke - because even if her words wouldn’t help _her_ , they might help Oliver and William and her mother to hear them said aloud.

“Your honor… I recognize that pleading on my own behalf is self serving,” Felicity began softly, staring at her hands as she spoke before lifting her chin to stare down the man who, for good or bad, would decide her fate. “But at my core, I am a person who will do anything for the people that I love. And I know that my husband and my son want me home with them as much as I want to be home with them. So I’m asking you to please… Let me get the chance to go home to them, sooner rather than later.” 

Felicity nudged her glasses up her face as she did a little half turn to glance at Oliver and William, her eyes tracing over their faces lovingly. 

“I don’t claim to be a perfect person - far from it. But I know I am innocent of the crimes I am charged with today. And if I cannot be acquitted, then I would ask for a light sentence. Because whatever I am, whatever I become? I care about this city. And about the people in it. And if granted a lesser sentence, I will use my time to give back to the people and the place that I know and love. I have only ever wanted to help people. And I-” she paused, inhaling slowly but deeply as she tried to steady herself. 

“-I just want to live what is left of my life with the ones that I love, trying to make this world a better place. And I promise, if I am allowed to return to my family because of a lighter sentence… I will not do anything to risk being taken from them ever again. I just want to be with my family. That...That’s all I’ve ever really wanted.” 

Even as the words left her lips, Felicity could feel the tears spilling over her cheeks, hot and fast. Finished saying her piece, Felicity sat back down quickly, doing her best to stifle the racking sobs that threatened her. 

The deliberation was short, the verdict swift: with little remorse or concern, the judge handed down the maximum possible sentence for Felicity’s supposed crimes. _Twenty years._ Felicity heard her mother’s wail and William’s quiet whimper before the uproar in the courtroom drowned the rest out. All at once, the world became somehow distant and as she turned to look at her loved ones, someone else caught her eye. 

Ricardo Diaz himself was getting slowly to his feet, flanked by his little lackeys; as Felicity watched, he shook hands with the judge, who had stepped down from the bench, and then he shook hands with Armand and Hill in turn. Felicity couldn’t look away as he buttoned his suit, his eyes on hers and a faint smirk on his ugly, smug face. With his eyes still locked on hers, he lifted one hand and using his thumb and forefinger, he mimed a gun. Pointing his finger at her, he pretended to fire it directly at her, then mimed blowing off the barrel, his message clear.

He’d gunned for her. And he’d gotten her. 

Felicity’s eyes narrowed as she watched the man responsible for her and her family’s present pain swagger out of the courtroom, leaving her to the maelstrom of press and bystanders within. But Felicity didn’t care about the storm - with the cause of her and her family’s hurt now gone from the room, she had eyes only for her family. 

Oliver looked… bereft. He was watching her with desperation and disbelief, panic and fear and a million other things swirling in his eyes. And William? William looked forlorn and lost, wounded beyond all description. Her mother was beside herself; Donna’s mascara was running as tears traced down her cheeks and a heartbroken expression on her face.

“Felicity,” William whispered as she pulled him towards her for a desperate hug, keenly aware that after today, she might not get another chance to. After today? She’d only see him from behind glass for the next few _decades_. He was going to grow up and she wouldn’t be there to witness it.

“I’m here, William,” she reassured him brokenly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he held her. A hand touched on her upper arm and Felicity turned her head to see her mother blinking back tears as she kept a hand on her daughter for support. Stroking the side of William’s face, Felicity encouraged him to look at her and he did so with watery eyes. Looking from William to her mother and finally, to Oliver, she spoke to them all at once. 

“Please take care of each other. I love you all so much and I-” she paused, her throat constricting with emotion. Swallowing thickly, Felicity forged ahead. “I am not going to make it through this unless I know that you all are safe and together. Okay?”

“Felicity,” Oliver murmured and she shook her head, unable to even begin to hear whatever he was going to say. She had to say her piece now, before she was too overcome to speak. 

“I’m so sorry. I-I never meant to put any of you through this,” she squeaked, unable to keep the tears from leaking down her cheeks, prompting her to blink rapidly. “I need you to be strong. Look after one another. William, I want you to know I’m so proud of you and-”

A hand landed on her shoulder, making her flinch violently. She turned to see one of the bailiffs standing by, a pair of handcuffs in his hand. 

“It’s time to go,” he intoned in a low voice and Felicity felt a shudder pass through her.

“P-Please can I… Can I say goodbye to my family? Just… Just a few minutes is all I ask.” 

The man regarded her for a moment but then finally nodded. “A few minutes - then I really have to take you back into custody,” he warned and Felicity bobbed her head in agreement, feeling deeply appreciative for her few minutes long reprieve.

“Thank you,” she responded hoarsely, watching as he moved a few steps away to give them their space. Felicity looked over her trio of loved ones hungrily. “I love you. All of you. I love you, William. Mom, I love you. And Oliver… I love you. I love you with everything in me,” she exhaled shakily, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice. “I’m so sorry. Please… Be good to each other. Be safe.”

She wrapped her mother into a warm hug and tried to listen as Donna Smoak rambled off a teary string of goodbyes. With another warm hug for William, Felicity whispered her feverish advice in his ear.

“Do your homework. And go to bed on time. And definitely sign up for differential equations next year because you are ready for the challenge. And please… take care of your dad. Just… be happy, okay? That’s all I want for you guys. And remember… I love you. I will always love you. And nothing - not prison or distance or time - will ever change that,” she bared her soul to her son before she gave him one final squeeze. Felicity watched as Donna put a comforting arm over his shoulders before she led the boy away, leaving Felicity and Oliver to say their last goodbyes in relative privacy.

She couldn’t meet his gaze so she contented herself with staring at their joined hands. Her plain wedding band had been the only thing she’d been allowed to keep while in prison, aside from her glasses - the rest of her personal effects had been taken from her. She stared at their matching bands now, her thumb rubbing across the cool metal as she tried to work up the courage to say what she needed to. 

But as ever, he knew her better than she seemed to know herself.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He murmured to her, folding her hands between both of his as he stilled her nervous fidgeting. She blew out a quavering breath, still unable to meet his gaze as she contemplated what she was about to do. 

“Oliver,” she began unsteadily and he touched a hand to her chin, tipping her face up to meet his. 

“We are going to fight this, Felicity. We won’t rest until you’re home, where you belong,” he assured her. And his voice was so strong and so sure and so confident that she felt herself falling more deeply in love with this man. This incredible, wonderful, loving man who could stare a hurricane in the face and tell it that _he_ was the storm and that _it_ should be afraid of _him._

“I know you will,” she acknowledged, a wobbly smile fixing itself onto her lips. “It’s who you are. It’s one of the things I love most about you. You always fight for the people that you love.” 

He stared at her hard then, his eyes searching hers guardedly. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” 

Her eyes lifted to his then and Felicity couldn’t even begin to describe the conflicting emotions she felt as she looked upon Oliver. Her husband. Her partner. The man she loved. Her soulmate. The father of her children. _Plural._

“But I’m not sure how much good fighting is going to do us now… We’re running out of time _,_ ” she confessed, prompting his brows to slope into a stark frown. 

“Tell me,” he begged and her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to breathe through her panic and her fear. “Felicity, honey you aren’t making sense.” His voice was soft, so incredibly, wonderfully, painfully soft.

“I’m scared, Oliver. I’m so… _so_ scared,” Felicity confided and almost instantly she felt him cup her face in both his hands, his thumbs ghosting tenderly across her cheekbones. When she opened her eyes, his expression was one of fierce devotion and love, mingled with profound sorrow.

“Felicity, I promise I will do _everything_ in my power to bring you home as soo-” Oliver began, his head tilting down towards hers as though to kiss her and all at once, Felicity felt every last semblance of self control fall by the wayside as she blurted out the words with none of the grace she’d hoped to. 

“I think I’m pregnant, Oliver.” 

He never finished the rest of his thought; the moment her words registered, Oliver froze, his eyes flaring wide before darting to her stomach. 

“Y-You...You might b-be...You’re pr-...you mean we are having a...a...” he spluttered and she couldn’t resist the gentle line of teasing that harkened back to the lead up to their first date.

“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments,” Felicity whispered and his eyes snapped to hers with a look both loving and yet, rawly primal and she could tell, every protective instinct he possessed had just come roaring to life in the most impressive of ways. Before she could say or do anything more to elaborate on the bomb she’d just dropped on him though, she felt the bailiff’s hand on her shoulder.

“It’s time to go,” the bailiff remarked and Felicity began to tremble from head to toe. 

“No, no no no no,” Oliver began, throwing a hand out towards the bailiff as if to stop him. In an instant, John appeared at his side, laying a hand across his chest. 

“Oliver man, don’t do this,” John warned quietly and Oliver attempted to shrug John off, his eyes wild. In that moment, Felicity realized they were balanced on a knife's edge; Oliver could and very likely was about to completely lose all sense of control in the name of protecting her and the child she was now very convinced was growing in her womb. But if he did that, it would destroy any chance they had of undoing the injustices that had been done to them. 

“Let go of me,” Oliver growled and as he struggled, Felicity unconsciously found herself doing likewise with the bailiff so that she could stay close enough to him to get through the haze of his protective rage to speak to him. 

“Oliver don’t,” she pleaded and the moment he heard her voice he froze, looking like a kicked puppy as she spoke. “Don’t do anything that we will regret later,” she pleaded with him, straining against the bailiff even as he handcuffed her hands behind her back. “For the sake of our family,” Felicity added with finality and she knew that her words had landed when Oliver went slack in defeat, his eyes not so subtly dropping to her midriff. 

Her last sight of Oliver was of him still standing with John’s hands firmly on his chest holding him back as she was removed from the courtroom.

What she didn’t see was the way he crumpled onto the courtroom bench the moment she was out of sight, thoroughly and beautifully shattered beyond repair. 


	5. Chapter 5

Felicity had very nearly vomited on the ride back to the prison and it was only by putting her head between her knees that she had forced herself to breathe through the rising sense of panic and the churning of her stomach. The look on Oliver’s face when she’d told him about the pregnancy was burned into her brain and she wasn’t sure if she’d been right to tell him, or if she’d just made a colossal mistake. Obviously he deserved to know - he was her husband and the father for crying out loud. But Oliver also had a tendency for flying off the handle and she _so_ could not have him doing that now. 

Oliver was now William’s sole parent. Oliver needed to worry about pulling together his own legal defense - which, in light of Felicity’s sham trial and sentencing? She was now ten times more worried about his legal woes. If Diaz had gone to these lengths to throw _her_ in jail, how much more would he be willing to do to throw _Oliver_ in prison? 

She shuddered to think of it. 

But as the guards escorted her back into the prison, Felicity found herself distracted from her fears for Oliver when the guards started to lead her past her cell.

“I-I’m sorry, excuse me but where are we going?” Felicity chirped nervously, only for the guard leading her to half turn his head back towards her and scoff. 

“To your cell. You’ve been sentenced now. Your injunction has been dismissed by the judge and you’re to be moved to gen pop.” 

God help her. This was a nightmare. This was… this was _bad._ “I’m sorry, please hold on, I need to speak to my attorney, this is wrong. You don’t understand, it isn’t safe for me to be in the general population,” Felicity began, having to consciously stop herself from placing a protective hand over the still flat planes of her stomach. She was less afraid for herself and more afraid for her child; if someone should decide to go after her, Felicity would never forgive herself if the baby was hurt in the process. 

“You can call your attorney tomorrow. You’ve already had a chance to speak with her today,” the guard in the lead fired back at her and Felicity felt the claws of panic sinking into her. 

“No please, you don’t understand this is potentially a matter of life and death-” Felicity tried to argue, only for the officer to whirl on her, one hand brandishing a baton as he stared her down.

“Are we going to have a problem here, Inmate?” 

Felicity’s eyes flashed, her nostrils flaring wide as the air seemed to momentarily leave her lungs. She gaped like a fish on dry land for several long seconds and then she finally gulped in air with which to speak.

“N-No. No, of course not,” she gasped, blinking up at the guard in dismay until he finally turned back around and resumed leading her through the prison’s winding halls. As they emerged into one of the cell blocks of the general population, the guard leading her raised his voice and his words made Felicity turn white as snow.

“Attention ladies! Iron Heights is proud to welcome Mrs. Felicity Smoak-Queen to our fine establishment!” he crowed, turning to gesture to Felicity with both his hands. Instantly, shouts and boos and hisses rose through the air as the inmates of the block reacted to the new face in their midst. As Felicity stumbled numbly along behind the guard, she gulped as she caught sight of a few very familiar, very dangerous faces. 

Peroxide blonde hair framed the face of a woman she hadn’t thought she’d be seeing again and Felicity shivered as she walked right by Chien Na Wei, who peered out at her with a dark expression from within the confines of her cell. A little further along, Felicity had to resist the urge to flinch away as she caught sight of Brie Larvan, who was plastered at the front of her cell with a sneer on her face as she watched Felicity march past. 

“You’re a dead woman, Smoak!” Brie hissed loudly and whoops and cackles met her words as the cell block continued to raise hell for her arrival. As her walk of horror continued, Felicity also saw the faces of Laura Buser and Mrs. Reston peering out at her from the shadows and Felicity could not help how fear seemed to trace up her spine and coil around it, making each step feel heavy as her own terror paralyzed her from the inside out. 

The guards might as well have put a target on her head by announcing her arrival this way. As they showed her to her cell and closed her inside though, it became abundantly clear precisely why they had done so.

“Mister Diaz sends his regards; he wanted to make sure you were greeted with proper fanfare,” the guard uttered in a low rumble as he locked her cell behind her and it was all Felicity could do not to let out a strangled cry.

The prison guards? He’d bought off _the prison guards?!_

Did she even have a prayer of making it out of this place alive? Did her child? 

Her mind weighed heavy with these thoughts as she curled up on the bottom bunk bed; her heart, however, weighed heavier still on her. Felicity wrapped her arms around her midsection as she tried to hold back tears. She missed her son. She missed Oliver. Perhaps it was ridiculous but she didn’t even know how to begin to fall asleep without the reassuring weight of him tucked beside her. Had she slept without him the last few weeks? Sure. But that had been different. She’d been relatively safe then. Now? She was much less so. 

For so long now, Oliver had been there on the nights when she couldn’t sleep, on the nights when the nightmares reared their heads. And now, when she needed him most? He wasn’t allowed to be here. With the absence of his warmth, Felicity felt ice cold, even as she drew the thin blanket across her body. Oliver had always been the source of radiant heat between the two of them, where she seemed to run perpetually cold. On more than one occasion, she’d tucked her toes against his body to warm them up, only for him to grumble about her having ice cubes for feet. 

What she wouldn’t give to be in bed beside him now, rather than alone, cold, and crying. 

With a gulp, Felicity remembered that she wasn’t _entirely_ alone though; beneath the blanket, she moved her hand to touch lightly against her stomach and she shivered at the reminder that, even now, she carried part of Oliver with her. And with every passing moment, that little sliver that was part him, part her? It grew. 

She tried to focus on that tiny little sliver, even knowing that she wouldn’t be able to feel the baby for some time yet. Still, if she thought hard enough, she could manifest it in her mind as a tiny spark of light. And it was with this vision, of a tiny, flickering flame, that Felicity finally fell into a fitful sleep, with nightmares of candles being snuffed out and fires extinguished, of cold hands grabbing her and pulling her into darkness. 

She woke to _actual_ hands grabbing her in the darkness of her cell some hours later and she would have screamed were it not for the hand that covered her mouth, preventing precisely that. 

“Sshh Felicity! It’s me. Felicity, do you hear me? It’s me. Oliver.” 

Her eyes flared wide as the hand at her mouth slowly moved away, allowing her to inhale in a rush as she bolted to her feet. Standing before her, just barely silhouetted by the dim lights in the cell block beyond, was Oliver, dressed in his Green Arrow leathers. Even as she stared at him, he drew back his hood, allowing her to look into his fraught, stormy blue eyes. 

“Oliver? What are you doing here? Are you completely insane?” Felicity hissed, grabbing him by his hood as she hauled him to the floor at her feet in a graceless heap. “Oliver, you have no tech backup. Which means by breaking in here? You just gave the DA all that he needs to make a compelling case for you being the Green Arrow! Not that he actually _needs_ to make a compelling case since, as we’ve seen, Diaz bought the judge and the jury at my trial!” 

“Felicity, I’ve got that covered,” Oliver assured her from his position splayed on the floor, with her kneeling over him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had conveniently learned how to hack into the prison security system to create a video feedback loop on your own.”

“I didn’t,” he confessed and she glowered down at him, so frustrated she could have screamed.

“Oliver! That means that the guards, if they don’t already know that you’re here, they will soon! And even if they don’t catch you physically here, again, they’ll have you _on tape_!” Felicity hissed, her chest heaving with the force of her emotions as she gave his chest an irritated flick. To his credit, he didn’t laugh but merely glanced down at the spot on his suit that she’d flicked before quirking a brow at her. 

“Are you finished?” 

“Not by a long shot. I haven’t even _begun_ to chew you out,” Felicity retorted heatedly, only to be met with a quiet chuckle from Oliver and she felt indignation swell within her. “Oh, you think this is funny? You’re laughing? Did you even _think_ about what will happen to William if you get caught? He’ll lose both of us, Oliver! How could you do this? How could you do such a stupid, irresponsible, rash, foolish-” she rambled, only to be drawn up short when Oliver pressed one gloved finger to her lips.

“Felicity? I’m not here without backup. I _do_ have tech support. And while _I_ didn’t create any video feedback loops, I’m pretty sure Curtis did,” Oliver paused, tilting his head to the side before he amended. “Excuse me. _Alena_ did the video feedback loop, Curtis took care of the external security systems for the prison. Alena’s handling the interior; she’s also the one who whipped up this little thing,” Oliver paused and showed Felicity a small device about the size of a pocket watch, “to scramble any bugs that might have been planted in your cell.” 

Felicity blinked at Oliver, tilting her head to the side as she studied him.

“You have a comm in,” she remarked in wonder and he grinned at her as he pushed himself up into a kneel before her. 

“I do.” 

“You have backup?” 

His answering nod was slow but confident and Felicity felt her brows lift in surprise. 

“John is in here too. Rene and Dinah are guarding Curtis but they’re on standby if we need them, Alena is patched in remotely from the bunker, and Raisa is with William right now and Lyla is keeping an eye on them.”

“H-How? How did you get them to agree to come back? Rene and Dinah and Curtis weren’t even speaking with us! And Alena-”

“ _I_ didn’t get them back - you did.” 

You could have heard a pin drop in that moment as Felicity stared at her husband, aghast. “What?”

“Felicity, everyone knows you’re innocent. After the sentencing I… I was spiraling. I went back to the bunker and Rene, Dinah, and Curtis found me there. We talked. I asked for their help and after some negotiating they agreed. That’s all that matters. I reached out to Alena through Helix and she answered but to be clear, it’s just her on her own - she doesn’t have the power of Helix behind her on this. And, here we are.” With a sweep of his hand, Oliver gestured to their present situation.

Felicity fell silent and still then, her eyes on his as she tried to sort through the conflicting emotions she was feeling. On the one hand, it was gratifying that the people they had once counted on had believed in her enough to lend assistance. On the other hand? What were they thinking, signing off on this _ridiculous_ plan of Oliver’s? They had to know that this would only make matters worse for all of them.

“Oliver if we do this, we’re forfeiting any chance we may ever have for a normal life. Even if we were able to prove my innocence later, I would still face jail time for fleeing custody,” Felicity reasoned and she saw the shadow that passed over his face, saw how his jaw went taut and his eyes darkened. 

“Felicity, you cannot go to prison for _decades_ for crimes you didn’t commit,” he protested in an enraged whisper.

“And I can’t condemn our children to a life on the run,” she responded back, her words feather light as her hands fell to cover his. As she said the words, she could see the way Oliver seemed to still when he heard her say ‘children’ but she soldiered on. “Oliver, think of William. Think of this baby-” she began, only to have him crush her hands in his. 

“I _am_ thinking of our children,” he growled, stumbling over the word ‘children’ as his voice broke. “And our _children_ deserve to grow up with their mother in their lives.” 

“Where would we even go, Oliver? Our faces are gracing a lot of five o’clock news segments these days,” she chided and he shook his head fiercely.

“I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.” 

“Oliver, hon, I hate to bring up old wounds but you’re a former billionaire playboy the paparazzi couldn’t get enough of and I was the face of a Fortune 500 company. We don’t exactly ‘fly under the radar’ well. Where _could_ we go that we wouldn’t be recognized? I don’t want our children to have to grow up in a bunker.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Oliver hedged and she shot him a dark look.

“Oliver. Be serious.” 

“I am being serious, Felicity. I cannot leave you here.”

“And I cannot raise our family on the lam, Oliver. How many times has William told us he wants a normal life? He would be _miserable_ on the run. And I won’t separate you from him. So what are we supposed to do? Am I supposed to flee by myself? Raise this child alone and leave you to raise our son? How would that even begin to work?” 

“Felicity, you are _pregnant_. I couldn’t leave you in here when it was just you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave you _and our child_ in here unprotected!” Oliver had to modulate his voice but Felicity could tell that it was a struggle for him not to shout. Without thinking, she took his hands and placed them over her stomach, watching how Oliver’s entire world seemed to narrow to just the flat expanse of her stomach.

“Felicity.” His voice quavered but despite that, she could tell he was using the soft tone he reserved for her and William. His most vulnerable, earnest voice, the one she loved more than she could explain. “As long as you’re in here, neither of you are safe. We both know what Diaz would do if he found out about the baby.” His fingers twitched against her stomach and Felicity bit her lip as she struggled to breathe.

He was right.

“I know, Oliver. I know. But this? What you’re proposing? That doesn’t keep us any safer. We’d just be trading one danger for another. And I cannot destroy William’s life just to protect his sibling’s,” Felicity rationalized, continuing to hold his hands to her stomach, even as she watched tears of defeat and heartbreak leak down his cheeks. 

“So what do we do?” Oliver asked brokenly and Felicity chewed at the inside of her cheek, considering. 

“You have to find out who’s really responsible for the falsified files. Discredit the evidence that I did these crimes. _Anything_ that will get the charges against me dismissed.” 

Oliver stared at her in sullen silence for a moment, turning over her proposition. “And if I can’t?” 

“If you can’t prove my innocence by the time I’m showing, just before it’s too obvious to hide? ...Then I’ll let you break me out,” she capitulated at last, looking back at him with a soft sniffle. 

“And how long will that be?” Oliver asked with interest, glancing at her stomach and Felicity blanched as she thought about it.

“I-I’m not really sure on that front. Best guess? At the very least, I’m just over a month along, maybe a couple weeks more than that. So depending on how fast this little one grows? Two months? Three, if we’re lucky?” 

She saw the steely glint enter Oliver’s eyes then; she felt the way his body seemed to tense, saw the subtle dip of his head that was the faintest of nods. And she knew, in that moment, that she was watching her husband single handedly take on this monstrous burden all on his own. For her. For their children. _For their family._ And in that moment, her love for him soared to new heights. As did her guilt. 

Leaning forward, Felicity touched her forehead to his and she heard Oliver release a shuddering breath before his hands slowly moved to wrap around her back as he pulled her into his lap in a warm embrace. 

They clung to each other then, with a desperation and a desolation that made the idea of being the first one to let go unbearable. Instead, Felicity found herself burrowing against him, holding him still tighter as the minutes went on. She breathed in deeply, allowing muscles she didn’t realize she’d been tensing to relax as she took in the familiar smell of leather and sandalwood that she always associated with him. Here? In his arms? This was home. This was the place she wasn’t ready to leave. Never would be, really. 

“I am afraid I will never forgive myself for leaving you,” Oliver breathed in her ear and Felicity felt a pulse go through her body like an electric shock as she recognized the words she’d told him all those years ago in Nanda Parbat. 

“The only way that I’m going to survive this is if I know that you’re out there, protecting our son. Keeping him safe. And fighting like hell to get _us_ out of here - _the right way_ ,” Felicity echoed the words he’d said to her that night, albeit with her own spin on them, and she saw the anguish deepen in his eyes. 

“We really are always saying goodbye to each other, aren’t we?” Oliver whispered and Felicity had to swallow back the sudden rush of pain she felt at his reminder that yes, yes they were. And she for one, was damn sick of it. 

“Well, our trick of not saying goodbye worked pretty well in Nanda Parbat,” she pointed out and Oliver shook his head, the tears continuing to overflow as his hands found her face and his lips crashed upon her own.

His lips were warm as they moved against hers, urgent and passionate as he seemed to pour every unspoken word and feeling into it. Felicity responded to him in an instant, opening her mouth for him as his tongue stroked hers, deepening the kiss. His breath was hot as it ghosted across her face and she found herself scrabbling at the leather of his hood to hold him to her as the kiss went on and on, neither of them willing to end it. 

But it was going to have to end. She knew it, deep down, no matter how much she didn’t want it to. And Oliver had already given so much, compromised so much, _risked_ so much. It was her turn to step up. 

With a final, heated exchange, Felicity finally drew her mouth away from Oliver’s, her eyes watching hungrily as he traced his tongue across his lips with a quiet sigh. They stared at each other for a time, still holding one another close. 

“Promise me that you won’t do anything dangerous or dumb?” Felicity whispered at last and Oliver gave a hollow, dry laugh. 

“Without you around to stop me? That’s a big ask.” 

Felicity reached forward and tapped at the comm in his ear. “Is this thing on?” 

Oliver chuckled and shook his head before he depressed the button built into the device. “Now it is.” 

Felicity leaned forward, her lips at Oliver’s ear. “John if you can hear me? ...Please make sure my husband behaves himself. I’m counting on you to keep him in line for me.” 

Oliver lifted one brow her way in amusement and she gave him one of her classic wink attempts, keenly aware that it was more blink and less wink, but Oliver loved it when she did it. Sure enough, when she looked back at him he was smiling softly, giving his head a gentle shake. 

“I love you,” he stated finally, his voice suddenly all reinforced steel, so much stronger than she herself felt. 

“I love you too.” 

He held her fast for a few moments more and then, reluctantly he rose and she followed him to her feet, able to feel the building weight of her fears and her sorrow now that she was faced with his imminent departure. But instead of leaving, as she’d expected, he held her hand in his and eased her gently back down onto the mattress. 

“Go back to sleep,” he encouraged her and she huffed her displeasure as she looked up at him. 

“I don’t think sleep and I are on good terms, at the moment.” 

“I’ll sit here with you until you fall asleep,” he promised and Felicity weighed her options before she agreed, silently delighted for a few precious moments more with him. Felicity scooted beneath the blanket then, leaving plenty of space for Oliver to sit at the head of the bed beside her. To her profound joy, he held her in his arms then and she burrowed against him, glorying once more in the familiar, treasured warmth of his embrace. Despite the emotional strain, the stress, and the foreign surroundings, Felicity felt her breathing begin to even out as she slowly gave herself over to sleep. And though she fought it - wanting to prolong her time with Oliver as much as possible - in time she found herself lulled into a peaceful, restful slumber. 

\-----

The sound of the cell door clanging open woke her with a start the next morning; blinking in confusion, Felicity caught sight of the guards outside her cell removing the handcuffs from a willowy silhouette. As she sat up, the blanket fell away from her and Felicity stared, bleary eyed until she realized she didn’t have her glasses on. Feeling around blindly, she finally found them on the mattress beside her and she pulled them on, staring at the newcomer with apprehension just as the guards addressed her.

“Inmate 11900! You have a new cellmate. Just transferred in from the ARGUS penitentiary,” the guard - the same one from yesterday who had boldly announced Felicity’s arrival - snorted as he stepped aside, waving to the interior of the cell. “There you go, Inmate. You two play nice.” 

With a chorus of hoots and chuckles, the guards closed the cell door behind the newcomer and Felicity scrambled onto her feet, staring at the woman before her in surprise. 

“Felicity Smoak,” Helena Bertinelli looked the worse for wear from her time in ARGUS; there was a haunted look to her eyes and dark circles under them that gave her a dangerous edge as she stepped closer to Felicity. 

“Helena Bertinelli,” Felicity greeted the other woman, only to have Helena grab her by the throat and force her roughly against the nearest wall. 

“I hear you got married,” Helena growled and Felicity scrabbled at Helena’s vice grip on her neck, though it did her no good. 

“I-I did,” Felicity responded, struggling not to panic as Helena continued holding her against the wall.

“To Oliver Queen,” Helena elaborated and Felicity swallowed and then bobbed her head up and down faintly. 

“Y-Yes.” 

“I have some messages I’d like you to convey to him for me,” Helena growled, only for her attention to be drawn away by the sound of a clang. Both women looked outside the cell, where the guards were still gathered watching.

“Ease up there Bertinelli; you can rough her up but you can’t do her in. We need her alive,” the guard chortled and Helena let out a faint snarl before she finally released Felicity with a little huff of amusement. 

“This is going to be fun, Smoak.” 

The guards began to scatter at that point, though to Felicity’s surprise they swung the cell door open. Stepping forward timidly, Felicity addressed the nearest guard.

“Umm, I’m sorry, sh-should this be closed?” 

“Didn’t you get the memo, Inmate 11900? Right now is ‘free time’ for all you little rule breakers. You should go mingle. You’ve got quite the adoring audience waiting for you. And if you don’t go to them? They’ll come to you.” 

With those ominous words, the guard departed, leaving Felicity standing at the edge of her cell, her pulse beginning to skyrocket. So that was the plan then? To just let the other inmates have at her? To leave her unprotected with the very monsters she had helped to imprison?

She wasn’t going to make it easy for them. She definitely wasn’t leaving her cell. Or at least, she didn’t plan to. 

“Run along, Smoak. You heard him.” 

“You’ll excuse me if I’d rather _not_ run right into the jaws of death,” Felicity shot back hotly, only to suddenly feel Helena’s hands on her as the woman grabbed her and roughly shoved her out of the cell. 

“That wasn’t a suggestion. Scram. Play nice with all the others who have _you_ and your Green friend to thank for being in this place,” Helena muttered and Felicity’s skin crawled as she looked around the open cell block nervously. Inmates were lingering outside of their cells, or seated at the tables in the center of the block on the level below. As her fingers grasped the railing of the catwalk, Felicity could feel the eyes of the other inmates shift to her. 

And Felicity was suddenly _very_ aware of what a long fall down it would be from the second story catwalk to the first floor down below. Gulping, she inched along, making her way to the staircase. At least on the ground floor, they couldn’t fling her over the railing. The fall might not kill her, but Felicity had already navigated paralysis once - she had no desire to test what her bioimplant was capable of by injuring her spine again.

Not to mention what a fall like that would do to the baby. 

Felicity nervously glanced down at her stomach, which for now was flat and smooth. How long would that last though? All too vividly, she could recall what Lyla had looked like while pregnant. There would be absolutely no hiding the pregnancy at some point - she just hoped that, before that day came? Oliver could clear her name. 

A life on the run was everything she had never wanted - for herself, for her children, and certainly not for Oliver. The more they were denied it, the more Felicity realized she really did want just a simple life of domestic bliss with her loved ones. 

Having reached the ground floor, Felicity tried to project a sense of confidence that she most assuredly did not feel as she walked towards the nearest empty table in the center of the block. She could _feel_ the eyes on her as she did so but she acted unbothered by the attention, seating herself swiftly at the table and going so far as to boldly pull her feet up onto the seet after her in her best attempt at nonchalance. Felicity then very pointedly began to study her fingers, which at this point were _badly_ chipped, with only tiny flecks of the aquamarine nail polish she’d been wearing at the time of her arrest. 

It did not take long for her presence to be addressed. 

“Well, well, well. What have we here ladies? Some fresh meat,” a raucous voice cut through the cell block and Felicity did her best to stifle a shiver. _Chien Na Wei_. “And if the news reports are to be believed, she’s quite the local celebrity. Aren’t you, Mrs. Green Arrow?” 

_Frak. Oh frakking frak._

“Remember us, blondie?” Felicity’s eyes flicked to her left, following the second voice to find Mrs. Reston herself eyeballing Felicity with dark intent. 

“I don’t know what you ladies have heard but if you’re really going to believe the ‘Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow’ headline that they’re peddling these days, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” Felicity remarked coolly. “I don’t know who the Green Arrow is. If you’re looking for someone to blame for you being here, I’m not that person.” 

“Oh I beg to differ.” 

Felicity’s spine tingled as a familiar voice cut through the quiet, prompting Felicity to slowly turn to face none other than Brie Larvan. _Frak._

“Brie,” Felicity responded tersely and the girl narrowed her eyes from behind her overlarge glasses. 

“The Green Arrow saved you from my bees. Or have you forgotten?” 

“Forgotten being attacked by killer robot bees? No, that one is burned pretty firmly into my brain,” Felicity responded with venom. “But being saved by him doesn’t mean I know who he is. And I think I would know if my _husband_ was the Green Arrow. He’s not - for the record. Oliver’s a _lot_ smaller than the Green Arrow, for one,” Felicity bluffed, staring down Brie with a ferocity that she hoped the others were taking note of. 

“I don’t believe you,” Brie responded, moving still closer to Felicity. 

“And neither do we,” a fourth voice added, and Felicity glanced behind her to see that Laura Buser had joined the fray as well. _Frak frak frak FRAK_. 

“You’re making a big mistake,” Felicity hedged, rising to her feet as the four of them began to move closer, surrounding her on all sides. 

“Oh I very much doubt that,” Chien Na Wei stated, with a sharpened edge to her voice that made Felicity’s heart began to beat erratically in her chest. Oh god. Oliver had been right. What had she been _thinking,_ sending him away? This was so much worse than she’d realized. All it would take was one stray blow to her stomach, one wayward shot, and her child would be hurt or worse. 

“Let’s not do anything rash,” Felicity tried to mediate the rage she could feel being directed at her but the women only sneered and moved closer. Felicity felt her hands curl into fists, mindful of her thumb placement and the lessons she’d received from Digg and Oliver about how to throw a punch when a sharp whistle brought them all up short. 

“Now ladies, that’s no way to greet our new local celebrity,” a familiar trill made Felicity’s skin break out in goosebumps and she had to force herself to keep breathing as Carrie ‘Cupid’ Cutter herself came waltzing into the fray. She wore a mile wide grin as she strolled right up to Felicity and put a finger to her chin, tilting her face up so Carrie could look her over. “Still with your magazine cover good looks, I see.” 

“We can change that,” growled Buser and Carrie tutted.

“That won’t be necessary.” 

“I don’t recall anyone putting you in charge, Carrie,” Chien Na Wei glowered and as Felicity watched, Carrie spun to meet her former partner in crime. 

“In charge? Well no, I’m not that. But I did get downgraded from an ARGUS prison to this fine establishment today. And it would be a shame to do something that gets me sent back before I’ve even had a chance to enjoy myself,” Carrie pouted, tapping Felicity’s nose as she said it, her eyes glittering wildly. 

“Then go back to your cell. You don’t need to be here for this,” Brie spat and Carrie shot the blonde a dark look.

“Oh I beg to differ. You see, little lover girl here is the whole reason I went to the slammer in the first place. And if anyone is going to get to take a bite out of her? ...I wanna be there to see it,” Carrie finished in a predatory growl, her eyes growing dark. 

“Okay that one I can actually understand,” Felicity whispered nervously, her eyes flicking around the circle at the five women so eager to see her dead. “But also, I thought we ended that exchange on relatively good terms? I recall you saying that we gave you hope…?” Felicity trailed off, not without a little hope of her own. Carrie’s brows strung together in a frown and she pursed her lips together in a sarcastic pout.

“Oh sweetie, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect since then. And besides, any hope I might have had? That went out the window when you and your little lover boy broke up-”

“-But we _did_ get back together. See? Married!” Felicity wiggled her ring finger before Carrie, flashing her plain wedding band for the redhead. “Still very much in love! Trust me…” Felicity trailed off anxiously, waiting to see what the other woman would do. Carrie rolled her shoulders and her eyes, then turned back to the other women. 

“You all want to eat her up? That’s fine. But wait until later. I’d like some time to enjoy my new digs first,” Carrie sniffed before she sashayed away, leaving Felicity with the four women out for blood. They studied her with angry expressions and for a brief moment, Felicity thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , they would relent. 

But then Chien Na Wei stepped forward.

“I don’t run on your timetable and I have waited for my retribution on the Green Arrow for long enough.” 

Everything began to happen _very_ quickly then. 

Chien Na Wei came barreling towards her and Felicity had just enough time to curl her hands into fists, ready to swing before Chien Na Wei went veering off course. Felicity’s eyes rounded with shock and when she glanced back, she saw Carrie standing now between Felicity and Chien Na Wei and Buser. 

“I said _wait until later!_ ” Carrie screeched before Buser launched herself at Cutter. Felicity seized on the opportunity and began to run, only to feel a hand enclose on her foot and send her sprawling. She had just enough time and wherewithal to coil her body and protect her stomach, so she absorbed the fall with her knees and her hands more than anything. Her body smarted with pain as she tried to collect her wits about her, realizing belatedly that the hand on her foot was Chien Na Wei’s.

“Leaving so soon?” 

Felicity kicked out instinctively, making contact with the other woman’s face and eliciting a howl of pain from her. Scrambling to her feet, Felicity made a beeline for the staircase, only to find her path blocked by Reston and Larvan. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Felicity gaped at them, at a loss for words until another voice interrupted. 

“No. But you are.” 

Both women were suddenly bowled over from behind and to Felicity’s tremendous surprise, she saw that their attacker was none other than Helena. The Huntress herself whipped her head around, ready for a return attack before she turned her focus to Felicity.

“Go to our cell, Felicity.”

“What-” Felicity began, only for Helena to snarl at her short temperedly. 

“ _Move now, talk later_!” Helena hissed emphatically, giving Felicity a tiny shove in the right direction. Needing no further prompting, Felicity scooted quickly up the stairs and nearly sprinted for her cell. As soon as she was inside, she threw herself upon the mattress and drew her blanket over her, rocking back and forth while she hugged her midsection tightly. 

She’d made a mistake. A terrible, awful, stupid mistake. She couldn’t stay here. This was madness. They would kill her - or worse? The baby. And as the sounds of the fight below ensued and escalated, she wondered how long it would be before the guards broke it up. It ended up being some ten minutes - which, Felicity knew, would have been more than enough time for the group down below to have badly hurt her - if not worse.

The guards were definitely not going to be protecting her. That much was obvious.

When Helena finally appeared in the doorway of the cell and trudged inside, Felicity hadn’t the slightest clue what to say to her or how to approach her. But before she could react, Helena marched to the little sink and toilet housed in their cell and as Felicity watched, she spat a gob of blood out and wiped her sleeve across her mouth. From Felicity’s vantage, she could see that Helena had busted her lip open in the fighting but otherwise, she seemed visibly not too much worse for wear post-fight.

“A-Are you alright?” 

Despite herself, Felicity couldn’t help but ask. She watched as Helena quirked an eyebrow and looked at her in disbelief before she shook her head and bent to gulp a mouthful of water, swishing it around in her mouth before she spit it out. 

“I’ve certainly been worse,” Helena responded at last, turning to lean against the sink as she folded her arms before her studiously. “But that’s not really what you want to ask me now, is it?” 

Felicity stared at the other woman anxiously, trying to make sense of her before she admitted to herself that she had no freaking clue what to make of Helena Bertinelli. “Why did you save me from them down there?” 

“What makes you think I was saving you? Maybe I just felt like bashing some skulls in, for old time’s sake.” 

“If that was the case you had a prime opportunity to bash mine in earlier and you didn’t. Why?” 

“Because I’m here to _prevent_ your face from being smashed, that’s why,” Helena retorted coolly, reaching into her uniform pocket to reveal a small device. Felicity stared at it with a frown of concentration, realizing with a start that it was the very same device Oliver had brought with him when he’d visited her. The one that had been intended to scramble the signal of any bugs that might have been placed in her cell.

“Oliver sent you?!” Felicity breathed in disbelief, her eyes flashing open wide as she blinked at Helena, who rolled her eyes and chuckled before she swaggered closer to Felicity, tossing her the small device as she neared. 

“Apparently you guys know some big wigs over at ARGUS-”

“-Lyla,” Felicity breathed, awed and overwhelmed with gratitude. 

“-and they were able to pull strings to have me and my partner in crime down there relocated here to serve as your protection,” Helena explained and Felicity froze, not quite comprehending. 

“I’m sorry, did you say your ‘partner in crime’? Who would that be, precisely? Because from my perspective, no one else was looking to protect me down there except _you._ ” 

“The nutty redhead down there,” Helena indicated with a point of her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the floor below. Felicity’s puzzled frown only deepened. 

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me _Carrie Cutter_ is part of Oliver’s little ‘Felicity Defense Squad’?!” Skepticism flooded her voice as she replayed her interactions with the self proclaimed ‘Cupid’. “But...she said she wanted to be there to take a bite out of me! That doesn’t exactly scream ‘here to protect you’,” Felicity pointed out and Helena snorted. 

“Neither did me throwing you into a wall. Think about it, Felicity. The guards are bought and paid for. If they know we’re here to help you, they’ll move us to a different cell block and we’ll be worse than useless. As long as Carrie and I are here, we’ve got to let the guards think we’re tormenting you or they’ll take matters into their own hands. So we can’t look too chummy.” 

“Well, mission accomplished on that front,” Felicity muttered, rubbing her neck at the memory of Helena grabbing her and nearly choking her out. “Just...go a little easier on me next time? I’m a little more fragile than you and Carrie and the rest of you.” 

“I’m aware,” Helena shot back and Felicity felt her stomach knot up.

“Excuse me?” 

“I get it, Felicity. You’re not a fighter, you’re not ordinarily in the field.” 

Felicity felt her shoulders slump a little at Helena’s given explanation and she nodded, relieved that Oliver had apparently not told Felicity’s protectors about the precious cargo she had on board. Helena and Carrie might have agreed to come here and protect her, but that didn’t mean Felicity was necessarily ready to entrust them with the knowledge of the pregnancy just yet. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Felicity queried and Helena chuckled as she leaned against the frame of their bunk beds. 

“Go for it; it’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon,” Helena teased and Felicity nodded, staring at her hands as she fidgeted uneasily.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” 

“Why did you agree to come here? To protect me? What did Oliver offer you?” Felicity was worried that Oliver might be overextending himself, making promises he ought not to, promises that would demand too much of him down the line, and if he had, she wanted to know sooner rather than later. 

Helena was not quick to respond but when she spoke at last, her speech was measured and precise. “He didn’t need to offer me anything, Felicity. I’ve stayed in prison as long as I have because that was how I needed to atone for what I’d done. I could have broken out but I didn’t. And this? This is me trying to balance the ledger,” Helena explained, shifting her weight from side to side before she met Felicity’s eyes once more. “And besides, I told him not to let you slip away. From the looks of that ring on your finger, he didn’t. If I can help you two get back to each other safely… I want to. It’s the right thing to do.” 

“And that… that was enough for you?” 

“Call me reformed, but I like to think that I’m learning the value of doing the right thing,” Helena remarked wryly and Felicity found herself looking up at the brunette with newfound respect. 

“Thank you, Helena.”

If Helena had been expecting or wanting thanks, she hid it well; her brows lifted and her lips parted slightly in what seemed to be surprise as Felicity expressed her gratitude. 

“I don’t know what would have happened to me back there without you and Carrie. But I know it wouldn’t have been anything good. On behalf of me and my family… Thank you. For keeping me safe. I’m in your debt more than you even know,” Felicity gushed appreciatively. She could see the tiniest bit of color creeping into Helena’s cheeks before she ducked away, dismissing Felicity’s words of thanks outright. 

“You don’t need to thank me. Like I said, it was the right thing to do. And besides… Oliver was pretty pathetic looking. I would have done anything to make him stop looking like a kicked puppy. It’s just not a good look,” Helena sniffed primly but Felicity could tell that there was no sting in the teasing. 

“You think that’s bad? Try being married to that face. He pulls out the puppy eyes when he thinks he has me on the ropes,” Felicity huffed with a sigh, prompting Helena to give a little chuckle.

Okay. So… maybe Felicity stood a shot at surviving prison after all. Thanks to Oliver and his intervention.


	6. Chapter 6

“I don’t understand.” 

A weary sigh came across the speakers as Oliver’s father-in-law passed a hand over his face before attempting to explain again. 

“Oliver I don’t know how to explain it any more simply; the reason the specialists at Felicity’s trial testified that her digital fingerprints were all over the crimes is because these really are her digital fingerprints on these files. They didn’t lie - these are unquestionably hers,” Noah explained and Oliver’s features hardened. 

“I understand that part. What I don’t understand is how they got there. We both know Felicity didn’t commit any of these crimes she was accused of. So, I don’t understand how Diaz and his little lackeys got Felicity’s actual digital fingerprints on these files.” 

Noah paused and the image of him on the screen grew so still, Oliver feared the connection had frozen; he was at the end of his limited tech know-how jumping through Noah’s security protocols to have this chat. If it froze, he wasn’t sure he had the knowledge to get it back up and running. Thankfully though, a moment later Noah heaved another sigh. 

“The explanation that makes the most sense is that they simply copied her digital prints from something else she’d done. So the question then becomes: when would they have had the opportunity to do such a thing? Can you think of any situation in which they would have had a front row seat to the sort of technological feats she’s capable of?” 

Oliver ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, his mind whirring as he tried to envision when such a thing could have happened. And then, suddenly, it clicked. 

“A few months ago, Cayden James staged an attack on the International Domain Name Database. Felicity went toe to toe with him to stop him from destroying the internet… Is it possible he could have gotten her digital fingerprints then?” 

Sure, it was a bit of a leap to get from Cayden James to Diaz, but Oliver was more inclined to believe James was more likely of pulling off such a feat than Diaz. Noah grew thoughtful on the other end of the call, then nodded. 

“I don’t just think it’s possible, Oliver; I think it’s probable.” 

“So if James had her fingerprints, then Diaz probably got his hands on them when we brought James into custody.” 

And now that he’d said that out loud, Oliver felt confident that James’ death, which had always struck him as fishy, had likely been staged by the very man responsible for Felicity’s imprisonment. How the fuck had Diaz managed all of this?! 

All signs pointed back to him. But the dragon lacked the knowledge to pull off these feats. Which meant he had help - help of the technical variety. The question now was, who exactly _was_ helping him?! If they could figure that out and get a confession from that person, they’d be well on their way to proving her innocence. Unless…

“So if we know the prints are really hers, is there a way to prove that they were just expert copies placed on the files?” Oliver questioned hopefully, only for his father in law to shake his head. 

“I’m afraid not, Oliver. Any digital forensics specialist would - and already has - looked this over and confirmed the validity of her prints. Proving that the prints were placed there by someone else, and not just left behind by her? It’s impossible.” 

Swearing under his breath, Oliver resisted the urge to throw something across the room, instead directing his energy into balling his hands into fists. _Damn it_ It had already been weeks and they were no closer to getting Felicity out than they had been before. Already, Oliver could feel himself buckling beneath the strain. He’d let his Green Arrow responsibilities lapse completely; he hadn’t even given a fuck when the League of Assassins and Nyssa had shown up in the city with talk of maps and the like. He didn’t have time to play fantasy treasure map and he’d told Nyssa as much. Thea, however, had been more receptive and had offered to help the woman while Oliver had partnered with Felicity’s father to do whatever was necessary to prove her innocence. 

Even Oliver’s work by the light of day had begun to suffer; following the revelation that Hill and Armand had both been turned by Diaz, Oliver had summarily fired them both. The small problem with that? He didn’t exactly have any evidence to back up his claims of their purported complicity with a known criminal. So now he was facing backlash in the extreme and talk of impeachment had already been floated around. He knew it was only a matter of time before impeachment proceedings began, and Oliver knew all too well how that would go. 

Because if he had learned anything? It was that Diaz was capable of anything and everything. And Oliver’s impeachment? That probably fit in with Diaz’s plans nicely. At best, Oliver thought he might have a week, perhaps two, before he was out of office. Until then? He needed to do anything and everything in his power to get Felicity out before he lost the power of the Mayor’s office. 

There was nothing that he was not willing to do. _Nothing._ And it was with that absolutely relentless mentality that Oliver had discussed next steps with John. Somewhere along the line, that conversation had derailed into an argument, which had quickly escalated to a full blown knock down, drag out fight. 

It had been stupid to come to blows with John. Oliver knew that much. But John’s reluctance to go full throttle had grated on Oliver’s last nerve and the way his best friend had questioned and second guessed every move of Oliver’s? It had been too much. The fight had been a much needed way of venting his frustration through the use of his fists. But when John had looked at him afterward and walked out? Oliver had very nearly put an arrow through his friend’s back.

Because John wasn’t just walking out on Oliver and the team - that? He could have handled. No, John was now walking out on _Felicity._ And that? That Oliver could _not_ handle - or forgive.

This was Felicity that was at stake. His wife. The love of his life. His soulmate. That alone would have been reason enough to push Oliver to pull out all the stops. The fact that she was pregnant? That was the final nail in the coffin of Oliver’s patience. He could not dawdle. Every moment she stayed in that god forsaken prison was another minute she and their child were in danger. And sure, John didn’t know about the baby. But it didn’t matter; Felicity being in danger alone should have been proper motivation enough for the other man to be willing to move heaven and earth. Felicity and John were more than just teammates - they were friends. Confidantes. The fact that John had been questioning Oliver’s actions and how hard he was going at this? Oliver didn’t have time for that. He needed John to have his back, to support him in his quest to bring Felicity home, and to be willing to do whatever it took to keep her safe. Oliver was all too aware that if it was Lyla on the line, John would not have showed restraint. How could he expect anything less of Oliver given the situation?!

Someone was either with Oliver in the fight to free Felicity, or they were against him. There was no in between, so far as Oliver saw things. 

“So we’re back to square one,” Oliver remarked at last and Noah pursed his lips, thinking. 

“The level of skill needed to transplant digital files as complex as Felicity’s convincingly would be remarkably high. Not just anyone could pull off that kind of feat. Whoever did it? They’d be someone of some renown on the dark web. I'll have to reach out to some of my contacts - and if you and Felicity have any, you should reach out to them as well."

"Alena," Oliver muttered, not loving the idea of relying on the former associate of Cayden James, but unwilling to leave any stone unturned if it might help his wife.

"There’s no guarantee we can figure out who it was, and even identifying them would still leave us needing to secure a confession. But if we can track down the person in cahoots with Diaz, there’s a chance we could get them to go on the record to say what they did and that _should_ be grounds enough to have Felicity released, or at the very least to get her case re-examined,” Noah elaborated, saying what Oliver already knew. 

It wasn’t much; in fact, it was a pathetic straw and they were definitely grasping. But it was the best and only straw they had and Oliver was going to grasp it with both hands, damn it. 

“Then we’re going to find the son of a bitch responsible. What do you need from me?”

\-----

Felicity had known that being in prison would be awful. Missing her family, her friends, unable to assist the team in keeping Star City safe, powerless to aid the team in their attempts to bring Diaz to justice. All of it had painted a rather bleak picture. But what she had not anticipated was how god awful life in prison without computer privileges would be. 

The other inmates were given access to computers with no connection to the internet, allowing them to access rehabilitation programs and the like. But Felicity was barred from such computer usage, owing to the ‘risk’ she posed, due to the nature of the crimes for which she had (wrongfully) been imprisoned. 

To say that her fingers were itching to touch a keyboard would not have been inaccurate. Felicity missed her rolly chair and her computers more than she could say. And her tablet? God she missed her tablet; being without it was like being without a limb. But all of that would have been bearable, if disappointing, were it not for the other limitation placed upon her:

Felicity was not allowed phone access except under very limited circumstances. Again, ‘because of the nature of her technological skills and crimes’, she was too dangerous to allow normal phone privileges like the other inmates experienced. So unless she was calling her attorney under guard supervision, Felicity had no phone access. 

She wasn’t really sure if that was legal or not. But she also knew it didn’t matter a lick to the guards or anyone else if it wasn’t - they answered to Diaz, not the law.

Thus, if Felicity wanted to communicate with her loved ones, her only option was to write letters to them - letters which, she knew, would be combed through for any trace of code or hidden messages before they were allowed out. If they were allowed out at all. And judging by the lack of mail she’d received since being imprisoned? She was very much doubting her mail was getting through at all. Yet another gift, courtesy of Diaz, no doubt.

Mercifully, Felicity _was_ allowed to borrow books from the library - a respite which she became wholly reliant on within the first few days of her imprisonment. Being a genius level IQ with no purpose and no diversion was a ghastly thing, Felicity found. At least books were something to pass the time. Granted, at the rate she was burning through the prison’s catalog, she’d be done in no time. But that didn’t stop her. 

In fact, about the only thing that _did_ stop her from burning through a book a day was her morning sickness. Ever since Felicity had realized that she was very likely (see: _totally_ ) pregnant, she hadn’t been able to stop hurling. Day or night, before or after meals, it didn’t matter. Her stomach was a constantly churning mess, revolting against her. Or perhaps more accurately, her body had been hijacked by a tiny but powerful parasite intent on total world domination. 

Honestly, if it had been her call, Felicity would have waved the white flag of surrender to the fetus by day two of morning sickness; she was exhausted in her _bones_ and she hadn’t been able to enjoy a full meal. At best, she’d managed half a sandwich and a few bites of her applesauce halfway through her first week in gen pop. When Helena had asked her what was wrong, Felicity had bluffed and said she was too heartsick missing her family to eat. To cover Felicity’s poor appetite, Helena had been quick to ‘steal’ her applesauce in an effort to maintain the facade that Helena was Felicity’s greatest tormentor, rather than her greatest ally.

It was increasingly clear to Felicity who was in control of her body - and it wasn’t her. She just hoped that this wasn’t an indication of how difficult her child would be once outside of the womb. She had enough on her plate dealing with Oliver’s bullheadedness and William’s teen stubbornness without adding another product of the intractable Queen bloodline to her list. She was just going to have to count on the Smoak genes to temper the Queen ones. 

Fat chance of that. 

Departing the cafeteria after yet _another_ unfinished meal (some slop that had _definitely_ not been beef stroganoff, no matter what they said), Felicity was making her way back to her cell, Helena trailing along at a respectable distance, when Felicity passed by one of the guards, who happened to be carrying a cup of coffee.

A cup of _very fragrant_ coffee. 

Ordinarily, Felicity would have been delirious with jealousy - coffee had long been one of her staples and since getting to prison, she hadn’t been able to partake in it (which had led to some profoundly unpleasant caffeine withdrawals). But now? The smell of her once prized morning beverage was enough to send her stomach into violent spasms that could only portend one thing.

Frak.

Trying to maintain an air of cool collectedness, Felicity began to pick up the pace, speeding through the corridors even as she felt her stomach twist dangerously. Another classic bout of morning sickness was _definitely_ imminent. Dropping all pretense, Felicity sprinted back to her cell, sliding inside and throwing herself down in front of the toilet just in time to heave. 

She was distantly aware of Helena entering the small space, swearing under her breath even as Felicity continued to puke her guts out. It was several long minutes before Felicity had finished, and still several minutes more before she felt safe removing her head from the toilet. Blinking wearily up at Helena, Felicity could see the brunette studying her with rapt attention. 

“Are you finished?” Helena inquired icily and Felicity exhaled shakily and nodded.

“I think so.” 

With exaggerated movements, Helena moved across the cell and fussed with the mattress of her bed for a moment before she emerged with the signal jammer that Oliver had given her. Without delay, she mashed her finger down over the button to activate it before she rounded on Felicity with a serious expression.

“Explain yourself, Smoak.” 

“Well that ‘beef stroganoff’,” Felicity used air quotes for emphasis, “was questionable at best and honestly, it’s amazing that this place hasn’t been sued for the food alone. And don’t even get me _started_ on the Kosher, Vegetarian, and Vegan options.” 

“It wasn’t the beef stroganoff and we both know it,” Helena interrupted, her brows furrowing as she studied her charge. “And it isn’t you being heartsick, or you being stressed. You haven’t been able to finish a meal the entire time we’ve been in here. You’re constantly green around the gills and this is not the first time I’ve seen you throw up this week.”

“...I have a weak stomach,” Felicity offered but even she could tell she was sunk.

“Is that what the kids call getting knocked up these days?” Helena shot back bluntly and Felicity leapt to her feet and shoved Helena against the wall before she even knew what she was doing, her protective, motherly instincts in hyperdrive.

“SSHH!” Felicity hissed, glancing around anxiously to be certain no one was walking by outside who could have overheard. Satisfied that no one had, Felicity relaxed enough to process what she’d just done and she froze, her hands still on Helena’s prison uniform. 

Fortunately, Helena didn’t seem mad - quite the contrary. She was wearing a shit eating grin as she looked down at Felicity.

“Struck a nerve, have I?” 

“Drop it, Helena,” Felicity huffed as she let go of the other woman and turned to move deeper into the cell. Standing over the sink, she ran the cold water and splashed some on her face, patting her neck and chest to cool her clammy skin.

“Not a chance.”

“I mean it!” Felicity growled, a little more aggressively than she had intended - god, her hormones really were raging, weren’t they? Cutting off the water, she spun to regard Helena, a warning look fixed firmly on her face.

“So do I! I’m here risking my neck to protect you. The _least_ you can do is be honest with me. Besides, you’re a _terrible_ liar; almost as bad as your husband.” 

Felicity froze as Helena made a very valid argument and she exhaled heavily, keenly aware that she had no leg to stand on with which to counter. Damn it. Closing her eyes, Felicity let herself speak freely, admitting the truth without ever saying it.

“No one else knows. Only Oliver and I.” 

Helena was respectfully silent for a moment as she studied Felicity but already the blonde could tell that the other woman’s gears were whirring and processing, planning ahead and seeing the many, _many_ complications this presented. 

“How many weeks are you?” 

“I don’t know,” Felicity admitted wistfully, wishing now more than ever that she knew how far along she was, what her due date was, how the baby was doing, was it healthy? Was _she_ healthy? She had so many questions and so few answers. “I didn’t even realize I was…” Felicity trailed off, unable to bring herself to say the word.

“...-pregnant?” Helena supplied helpfully and Felicity winced.

“Right. I didn’t realize I was... _that_ until after I was already in here. My best guess is that I was anywhere from a few days to a few weeks along by the time I was placed in custody.”

“And you can’t… narrow it down anymore than that?” Helena prodded helpfully and Felicity scoffed. 

“Helena you’ve seen my husband. No, I can’t narrow it down. We could have gotten pregnant anytime between our wedding and now _easily_ ,” Felicity explained with no small amount of blushing, a flood of warmth entering her cheeks and blooming across her neck and chest. 

The other woman crossed her arms in front of herself in amusement, sending Felicity a cheeky wink. “You two didn’t waste time.” 

“I’ve always been an overachiever,” Felicity muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her face as Helena approached her, laying a friendly hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey. For whatever it’s worth? I’m sure you and Oliver will both make excellent parents. But until you two are back together where you belong, I’m going to do my best to keep you and that little one safe,” Helena murmured and Felicity felt the building knot in her chest loosen slightly at Helena’s reassurances. She nodded a little forlornly until Helena tapped her chin gently. “And I mean, if you felt like naming me the little twerp’s godmother, I wouldn’t be opposed,” she teased, eliciting a huff of laughter from Felicity.

And so passed Felicity’s first few weeks of prison life. Slowly, she became accustomed to the routine and to the new role she found herself cast in, constantly acting as though Helena and Carrie were foes and not friends. The duo played their parts well, often feigning throwing her into walls, miming threats at her in sight of guards, or making commentary within earshot that made it seem as though they intended her ill. With the other prisoners, it became clear that Helena and Carrie did not tolerate anyone besides themselves tormenting Felicity past a certain point - to maintain their cover, they allowed her to be ridiculed and verbally attacked almost daily. But any threat of escalation and one or both of the pair would find ways of shutting things down before Felicity could be put at any physical risk.

It was like living life on a tightrope but somehow, they managed. And all the while, Felicity could feel the child she carried growing within her. 

Her morning sickness remained intense and while that alone was a most unfortunate and unpleasant symptom of her pregnancy, it did mean that her waistline didn’t expand as precipitously as she had feared it might. Looking at her, you still couldn’t really tell that she was pregnant - although to her discerning eyes, it felt blindingly obvious. But then again, she was the one obsessively watching her waistline, fearing the day that would soon come when it would be impossible to hide the truth. 

For now, the baggy prison clothing hid the small swell between her hips with ease. The bump itself was small, still easily dismissible as a ‘food baby’ or some bloating. But Felicity (and now Helena too) knew that the small swell was much, _much_ more. 

She hadn’t told Carrie; though Helena had guessed, Felicity had thus far been able to keep the truth secret from ‘Cupid’ herself. And though the woman had been a diligent guardian, Felicity was okay keeping this little kernel from her until it became necessary to tell. Carrie did still often feel like a wild card and Felicity certainly didn’t need another thing to stress about.

And so, by the time that Felicity was nearing her second week of incarceration in the general population of the prison, she had become somewhat acclimated to the constant stress that her life in Iron Heights consisted of. 

Cut off and under tremendous strain, she was therefore beyond thrilled the first week of April when she was informed by the guards that she was to report to visitation. She had looked eagerly to Helena, who had shrugged, apparently equally as unawares as Felicity about her visitor. 

It had to be Oliver. Rushing to get ready, Felicity couldn’t help the eagerness in her step or the pep with which she went about brushing her teeth and washing her face. There was little that she could do to make herself look nice for him, but she still attempted to tame her hair, which fell in loose waves about her shoulders. Without a mirror or any of even the most basic beauty supplies, all she could really do was brush and part her hair and call it good.

God she couldn’t wait to see him.

Hurrying along to the corridor outside visitation, Felicity was practically bouncing in place as she waited her turn and when she was finally permitted into the small space, she felt momentarily dazzled at her proximity to the outside world. Seeing the neat little row of cubicles and the glass between them, she walked speedily along after the guard that showed her to her spot and when she arrived, she could not help the stunned expression on her face as she half collapsed into the seat.

Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the phone on the wall, her mouth gone suddenly dry as she attempted a greeting and managed only a faint rasp.

“Hey.” 

A chuckle on the other end of the line met her words and then a warm voice responded. “Try not to sound so excited to see me.” 

Felicity closed her eyes and passed a hand through her hair, sighing heavily before she lifted her eyes to meet John Diggle’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I am happy to see you, John. I just… I thought you-”

“-were Oliver?” John finished for her and Felicity’s eyes slammed shut to stave off tears as she exhaled through her nose and nodded. _Damn hormones_. She was about to break down. And she totally could _not_ start crying in visitation. 

“Yeah,” she choked out, forcing herself to look John dead on. “Not that it’s not wonderful to see you. Because it is. Really. But please tell me that you being here doesn’t mean something horrible has happened to him.”

To her profound relief, his answer was swift and sure. “Oliver is fine, Felicity. Not a hair out of place.” 

The wave of relief she felt at that news swept through her and she had to pull the phone away from her ear as she buried her face in her hand, struggling to compose herself. When she’d seen John on the other side of the glass, she hadn’t been able to help the way fear had clawed white hot through her, terrorizing her with the idea that John had come here to deliver horrific news of Oliver. Hearing that he was fine? It was almost too much for her. 

“God, I’m so sorry you have to see me like this, John. I’m such a mess.” 

“You are no such thing, Felicity. I understand; it’s been what, almost a month since you saw him?”

“Twenty eight days since I saw him at my sentencing, fifty four days since my arrest. But who’s counting?” Felicity offered weakly, with a small shrug of her shoulders. John’s eyes were soft and his lips pulled into a small, understanding smile. 

“He’s been trying to get in here for a visit, believe me. But ah...he’s been hitting dead ends,” John explained, rifling through his pocket suddenly. Felicity watched with a frown until he retrieved an all too familiar gadget - another one of the signal jammers, a perfect twin for the one hidden in her cell. Felicity watched as John hit the button then nodded at her pointedly. 

“What’s going on, John? Where is he?” Felicity asked despondently and Digg held up a calming hand. 

“I mean it Felicity, he’s been trying like hell to get in here to see you. But near as we can figure, Diaz has bought off loads of the folks in this place and they’re blocking Oliver’s attempts at every turn.”

“Of course they are,” she whimpered, burying her face in her hands as she tried to hold herself together, though she could feel her paper thin composure cracking again already. 

“Felicity, I had to talk him off a cliff two weeks back when they denied him visitation access and I thought he might lose it. Don’t tell me I gotta talk you down too.” 

“John do you see where I am? I live on the edge these days - not even you could talk me down,” Felicity retorted a little sharply. Catching herself, she sucked in a slow breath and massaged her temple before she returned her focus to her friend. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me. It’s this place. It’s everything I just… I miss him, John.” 

“I get that,” he nodded quietly. “And for whatever it’s worth? He definitely misses you too.” 

Something in John’s tone nagged at her and she found herself narrowing her eyes at him as she stared critically at him. “Elaborate,” she demanded quietly, prompting him to flare his eyes open wide in surprise.

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. Elaborate on that. I know you, John Diggle. And that? That was not a John Diggle trademark ‘reassuring tone’. The tone you just used says there’s something else going on with my husband. So dish.” 

To his credit, John fidgeted in his seat, looking a little guilty at her having sussed him out but eventually he caved when she pressed him with her best, pleading look. _Sucker._ No one could resist her puppy eyes - Oliver wasn’t the only one who had those down pat. “You and I both know how quickly he goes to the dark place, Felicity. And...he’s there big time now. But this? How he is right now? I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Well. That was, while not unexpected? A little disheartening. “You wouldn’t be mentioning this unless something was really wrong - something you don’t know how to fix. If you felt like you had it under control, you’d be sitting across from me, reassuring me that everything was fine. So what’s really going on out there?” 

He blinked at her and seemed to weigh his options for what felt like a long time before he finally passed a hand over his face and hung his head in defeat. “How do you do that?” 

“It’s my superpower. Now spill,” Felicity demanded pointedly. What ensued was a condensed explanation of Oliver’s desperate behavior in his quest to prove her innocence. And while Felicity could recognize that yes, Oliver was pushing himself entirely too hard and placing entirely too much pressure on himself, she also could tell from John’s retelling that somewhere along the way, John had stopped seeing Oliver through a compassionate lens. He wasn’t seeing that Oliver was more stressed and more afraid than he had ever been before. John had focused in on every fault and every flaw and had stopped looking at the good Oliver had done and was capable of. And that fact alone rankled her in no small way. Hearing that John and Oliver had gotten so worked up that they’d had a knock down, drag out brawl that had culminated in John walking out on Oliver? That pushed her firmly into ‘rage’ territory. 

“Felicity for six years I have followed the chain of command without question. But Oliver has brought the team and the city to a place that I can’t shake,” John explained and Felicity wished she could reach through the glass and grab him to literally knock some sense into him. 

“John, Oliver never asked you to blindly follow. He never asked that of either of us. I certainly didn’t fall in line and follow orders. You were there. You saw me stand up to him, especially in the beginning when his tactics were dubious at best. Obedience wasn’t what Oliver asked for. You don’t get to blame him for you choosing to fall in line. You have had a voice every step of the way the last six years. If you didn’t use it when you thought you should have? That’s not on Oliver - that’s on you,” Felicity began and she could see John’s features darken as she laid into him.

But it was necessary. How was it that she was in prison, yet it fell to her to set this quarrel between brothers right? Ugh. _Men._

“I will be the first to say that Oliver is far from perfect. He makes plenty of mistakes. But his intentions? Those are good, even when his methods aren’t. And it is unfair for you to say that _Oliver_ brought the city and the team to a place you can’t shake. You and I? We were both there every step of the way. You don’t get to lay the blame solely at his feet. If there’s guilt to be had, it’s all of ours. Because we are _partners_ , damn it,” she growled, glaring at her friend through the glass. 

This was beyond frustrating. But like hell was she going to let him leave this prison until he agreed to mend things between him and Oliver.

“We have all made mistakes. And we have all grown - I like to think for the better - since we began this thing. Our lives have changed. And yes, Oliver is now the Mayor and the Green Arrow. He is a father and a husband _and a vigilante_. But you know what John? You’ve been a husband, a father, a vigilante, and a ‘bodyguard’ by day. That’s a lot of hats and I don’t see Oliver criticizing you for how you wear them,” Felicity pointed out. “All of us have changed. Our motivations have changed but one thing is still true: we are all still trying to protect this city and the people we love who live in it. So you don’t get to blame Oliver and point fingers, John. Because for six years, you and I have been at his side, through every high and low. We’re all equally responsible for where this city and this team are today.”

The idea that her treasured friend and teammate could have - and had - walked out on her husband and the important work that he was doing rattled Felicity. _Badly_. The idea that he could turn and leave not only Oliver, but also Felicity, high and dry? It shook her to her core. 

“And what’s more? You wouldn’t be _here_ if you didn’t already know that. You knew when you came here what I would advise you to do, John. So go do it.” 

With everything going on, how were she and Oliver still hemorrhaging friends? How was it that their most _trusted_ friend was now sitting before her, telling her that he had washed his hands of Oliver because of a disagreement? It was enough to make her stomach start to churn and Felicity had to gulp air to desperately try and combat it. She’d sooner puke in the visitation cubicle than leave here with things between John and Oliver still strained. 

“Felicity… You’re right. And maybe it’s unfair of me to hold the last six years against him. But you… You’ve been in this place almost two months now. You haven’t seen how Oliver has been behaving. He is like a man possessed. I’ve never seen him this way. He’s like a loaded gun. It’s like he’s reverted back to the guy he was when he first came back from the island. That lack of restraint? That vicious edge? It’s back and worse than I’ve ever seen it. He’s unpredictable and he’s dangerous. And I won’t stand by while he goes back down that path,” Diggle explained and Felicity was nearly ready to tear her hair out. 

“John, you can’t walk out on him. Not now. Don’t do this.” 

“It’s already done, Felicity. You don’t know-”

 _“No, you don’t know about anything!”_ Felicity shot back angrily, her eyes crackling with intensity as she stared down John, who was visibly taken aback by the forceful nature of her response. _Whoops._ But she couldn’t claim she was sorry. She wasn’t. He needed to hear it, needed to hear the words she had to say _and_ the emotion behind them.

“Okay, Felicity… What don’t I know about?” 

Her chest rose and fell heavily with rapid, shallow breaths as she tried to regain herself, swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat as she glanced around for good measure before she forced herself to look back at her friend. And even before she said the words, she could feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

“We’re...having a baby,” she confessed in the softest possible whisper, unable to help the way her lips pulled into a smile that was mostly happy and yet, tinged with sadness too. John’s face went blank with shock and then, slowly, a smile spread across his face as he stared at her, suddenly radiant with joy. 

“Really?” 

The enthusiasm on his face, the way his eyes swept down to her stomach - all of it made her want to weep. Here? Here was the John Diggle she knew and loved. The John Diggle she counted as a trusted friend and chosen family. Felicity realized she'd struggled to see any of _that_ version of John in the conversation that had led up to this point. 

“Yeah,” Felicity breathed. “It’s early - I didn’t find out until I was already in custody. No one… no one really knows. I don’t even know if Oliver’s told William yet,” she confessed, her fingernails scratching her scalp as she fidgeted anxiously. “But the point is… John, you can’t give up on him. Not now. If he’s pushing hard, it’s because he’s not just worrying about me in here... He’s worrying about both of us _and_ William _and_ the Green Arrow charges against him _and_ trying to find Diaz _and_ protect the city _and_ trying to prove me innocent,” Felicity murmured, rattling off the many items on Oliver’s ever growing list of concerns. 

“I didn’t know,” Diggle began and Felicity shook her head, cutting him off.

“You couldn’t have. But you do now. So now, you understand why he is pushing himself and everyone else so hard. He has to prove my innocence and get the charges against me dismissed before I’m showing too much to hide it. We all know what Diaz is capable of - and if he finds out that I’m pregnant? Helena and Carrie won’t be able to keep me safe from the likes of that,” Felicity reasoned, the hand not currently holding the telephone splaying across the tabletop as she fidgeted anxiously. 

“And what happens if he can’t get the charges against you overturned in time?” John queried and Felicity felt a pang of fear at his words. 

“Then I said I would let him break me out of here and we would go into hiding.” 

“For the rest of your lives?” 

“If that’s what it takes? …Yes. I don’t want our children to be raised without their parents. I saw how my mom struggled as a single parent, and I know how hard Oliver took the loss of his father. I don’t want that for William and I don’t want that for this baby either,” Felicity explained, taking a ragged, deep breath to try and calm the storm of emotions raging within her. “So now you understand. There’s a ticking time bomb at play and our entire family’s future is hanging in the balance on this.” 

Silence fell between the two friends and when Felicity had finally composed herself enough to speak again, her voice was once more gentle and less emotionally fraught. 

“So you see, John? I need you to make peace with him. I need you to have his back. Because I can’t do that from in here. And he needs you - more than he ever has before. And I need you too. Please… _please_ don’t walk out on him. On _us._ Not now. Not with all of this happening. If you won’t stay for his sake - and I certainly hope you will - then please… stay for mine. I’m not going to survive in here if I know that everything is falling apart out there. Knowing he’s alone in this? That will destroy me. Please, John.”

He nodded, not meeting her gaze for several long moments. Felicity didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Diggle finally lifted his eyes to hers again and gave a simple, intentional nod, his voice gentle. 

“So what do we do now?” 

_“You_ go back to Oliver and make peace.”

“You say that as if that’s so easy.” 

“It is. Because it has to be. Neither of you can take down Diaz alone. And you both care about each other. So put aside your ego and tell Oliver to do the same.” 

“He’s not going to listen to me if I say that, Felicity.” 

“Yes. He is. Or he will, when you tell him that I said to remind him that he’ll always have me. But I won’t be much good to him if I’m stuck in prison for life or a wanted fugitive on the run from the law. And then you can tell him that you know about _this,”_ she gestured to herself, her indication clear. _The baby._ “And you tell him we have bigger problems at hand here. That should be enough to convince him to work with you. And if it’s not, tell him I said he has to, or else,” she gave a shrug and Diggle barked a laugh by way of response. 

“No one knows him better than you, you know that right?” 

“You keep sounding so surprised. I’m a genius, remember?” 

“Yes, you are,” Diggle smiled at her fondly. And then, very gently he added. “Felicity? Congratulations. I’m happy for you - both of you. Really.” 

And as easily as that, Felicity felt herself turn to a puddle of goo inside. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s hard to feel as happy as I want to about it in here. I’m just so stressed and so worried all the time...” 

“Then let me give you one less thing to worry about. I’ll take care of Oliver. You just take care of the two of you, okay? Oliver Queen is not the only one who needs you to come out of this alright, understood?” 

Felicity felt a flood of warmth at his words and she couldn’t help how the tears spilled over then, as she nodded back at her friend. 

“Understood.” 

“And for the record? You’ve got the glow, Felicity.” 

A rush of air left her like she’d sprung a leak at that and she shook her head at him in vehement disagreement. “You’ve never lied to me before, John. Don’t start now,” she countered and Diggle shook his head, still smiling at her.

“I’m not lying. Motherhood suits you. You’re glowing.” 

“The glow is a lie. This is a glow free zone. What you think is ‘the glow’ is a bad combination of sweat and fluorescent lights,” Felicity retorted, all tongue and cheek now that the air between them had been cleared. She had faith that John would do what was right and make amends with Oliver. She just prayed her fool husband could get out of his own head long enough to accept John’s apology, return it, and move on.

For the sake of her and their unborn child though? She knew he would. 

“You can claim it’s sweat or bad lighting all you want, but it was the same with Lyla when she was pregnant. You might not see it, Felicity, but there’s nothing on this earth more beautiful than a mother to be,” John explained with such gentle affection that Felicity felt her hormones dialing up again.

Before anything more could be said between the two of them though, one of the guards approached Felicity and informed her that her time was up. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she inhaled slowly and nodded before she looked back to Diggle with earnest, hopeful eyes. 

“I love you. I know you’ll take care of Oliver - and William. Tell them that I love them and that I miss them. And John? … Thank you.” 

With that, she hung the phone back on the wall and rose, obediently following the guard as he led her out of the visitation area. But the whole way, she could feel John’s eyes on her, watching over her protectively until she disappeared around the corner. 

Buoyed by John’s visit, and filled with the hope that he would make amends with Oliver soon, Felicity felt more unburdened than she had in recent memory as she left the visitation area and reentered the prison corridors. The guard escorting her dropped back when she was once more in the prison proper and she thought nothing of it until suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her.

More than one set of footsteps. 

No sooner had she processed this fact than did a pair of hands enclosed on her forearms before wrenching her off balance and throwing her to the side. Felicity felt her head collide painfully with the wall and lights exploded before her eyes as her vision swam. She could feel a warm trickle of something running down her face as she blinked through the dizziness, only for her heart to sink.

“I believe we have some unfinished business,” Chien Na Wei growled and Felicity felt fingers weave through her hair, grabbing a handful of it to force her head up to look at her attackers. As expected, Chien Na Wei was joined by Buser, Reston, and Larvan. 

They’d cornered her. And her protectors were nowhere to be found.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! So just a forewarning, there is a fight scene ahead and Felicity does get hurt. It's not overly graphic or egregiously violent, but just a heads up to all of you so you can prepare accordingly!

Stars. They were all she could make out as her vision blurred and the pain from the blow to her head reverberated through her skull.

“Not so powerful without your precious supercomputers now, are you?” Brie Larvan gloated. Reston and Buser prowled eagerly behind Chien Na Wei, who now squatted before Felicity, holding her head up by a handful of hair. 

“Or your leather clad muscle to back you up,” Buser sneered and Felicity struggled to regain her wits, her head still spinning and her vision swimming from the force of the hit she’d already absorbed. She reached a tentative hand to her forehead and winced, drawing the hand away to see her fingertips were bloody.

Well that couldn’t be good. 

“Tell me, just _how mad_ would the Green Arrow be to learn you’d died horribly while in prison?” Buser queried as she prowled just behind Chien Na Wei and Felicity like a ravenous beast waiting for the kill.

Felicity took a breath as she struggled against her captors, trying to hide the quaver she felt run through her. Instead, she focused on her rage, on fanning it into a burning inferno from which she could draw strength. As their words processed, she found herself snarling back at them with a voice that sounded far different from her own. 

How mad would the Green Arrow be? 

“Mad enough that I wouldn’t try anything funny if I were you,” Felicity warned, her hands curling into fists as she prepared herself to come out swinging against Chien Na Wei. If she was going down, she would go down fighting to protect her child. But Felicity had no intention of falling today. All she needed was to break Chien Na Wei’s grip - then she’d be off and running for the hills. 

She didn’t need to fight to win. She just needed to fight to escape long enough to find her reinforcements.

“Ooh, is that supposed to scare us?” Reston chortled. 

“Look out, our little four eyes here has friends in high places!” Buser added haughtily.

“Easy on the ‘four eyes’ bit,” Brie snapped, moving forward to stare at Felicity with hungry eyes. “But while we’re on the subject, let’s start with her eyes. She can’t help the Green Arrow if she can’t see what she’s hacking,” Brie pointed out with such malice that Felicity couldn’t help but shiver. 

They wanted to _blind her?_ On the one hand, that was better than being beaten to a bloody pulp and risking the baby. But on the other? Felicity really wanted to be able to look upon her child’s face after all of this was said and done.

“Anything you do to me? He’ll do worse to you,” Felicity threatened with a conviction she certainly did not feel. So much for denying that Oliver was the Green Arrow. This lot seemed determined to believe it regardless, so she might as well lean into whatever leverage on them that might give her. The women glowered at her and Felicity was feeling a little self satisfied until Chien Na Wei yanked Felicity by her hair and stared down at her darkly. 

“I don’t see any masked vigilantes running around here meting out justice - do _you?”_ Chien Na Wei queried with a soft chuckle and before Felicity could react in any way, she felt a hand connect with her left cheek. The blow was a solid one that left the whole side of Felicity’s face burning painfully; even her eyes watered as she did her level best not to make a peep. As terrified as she was, Felicity nearly melted into a quivering heap on the floor when a familiar voice cut through the tension, making Felicity want to weep with joy.

“Allow us to act as their proxies.” 

As if in slow motion, Felicity saw Chien Na Wei turn to look at who dared to oppose her authority and she knew precisely what the blonde would see. Turning to follow the sound of the voice, Felicity felt a lump form in her throat, born of sheer appreciation as she looked upon Helena and Carrie standing not fifteen feet away, glowering at the quartet of criminals that had waylaid Felicity. The fact that these two women were not only ready but also willing to defend her (and her child) made Felicity feel deep seated gratitude in spades. As she watched her avenging angels, Felicity made eye contact with Helena and she could tell how angry the brunette was as she caught sight of Felicity’s bloodied face.

Oh wow. Yeah. The four ne’er do wells were so screwed. Helena was gonna kick their asses - Felicity had zero doubts. But wrapped up as she’d been in their arrival, Felicity realized she’d nearly missed a golden opportunity.

Chien Na Wei had also been distracted by the arrival of Felicity's protective detail and Felicity didn’t waste a moment more. Seizing her opportunity, Felicity kicked out with one foot and simultaneously took a swing with her tightly closed right fist. Her foot connected with some part of Chien Na Wei and her fist caught the woman squarely in the nose with a surprisingly loud _crack._ In the same breath, Felicity could hear the sound of fighting erupting from around her and she knew that Carrie and Helena had moved in as soon as Felicity had launched her attack. But all that Felicity cared about in that moment was the fact that, when she had punched her rival in the face, Chien Na Wei’s grip on Felicity’s hair had slackened. That was all the more invitation she needed to stage her escape. Throwing her weight forward with gusto, Felicity was able to break the other woman’s hold on her and though she felt a sharp tug when Chien Na Wei tried to grab her again, she managed to squeak away from the other woman. 

Getting her feet under her, Felicity sprinted away from the brawl; she could see Helena was duking it out with Chien Na Wei and Carrie seemed to have her hands full with Reston. But as Felicity tried to flee, she felt something solid slam into her and send her careening to the floor. She narrowly managed to tuck her feet up to protect her stomach before the tile rushed up to meet her. Instinctively, she threw her hands out in front of her to break her fall and she felt her weight land unevenly on her left wrist as a yelp ripped loose from her. She skidded roughly some several feet before she finally came to a stop. From her vantage on the floor, Felicity blinked for a moment, feeling disoriented as Buser and Larvan came to stand over her.

“You certainly seem to have made friends quickly,” Brie remarked as Felicity stirred and pushed herself up into a sitting position, clutching her left hand against her chest as she tried to ignore the pain zinging through it.

“You should try it sometime,” Felicity growled, only for her two opponents to share a knowing look and a grin as they watched her stagger to her feet. 

“We’re good on the friends front. Now we’re just looking to dole out some vengeance. You can help with that,” Buser hissed and Felicity felt a rush of rage at the obvious implication. Not bothering to wait for them to attack her, Felicity launched herself at Buser, swinging wildly at the other woman with her remaining, uninjured hand. Taken by surprise at Felicity’s sudden aggression, Buser ducked away but not before Felicity’s nails raked across her face, leaving angry red trails in their wake. As Buser recoiled, Felicity launched herself at the woman’s back, raining blows down on her even as her opponent reeled backwards. Emboldened, Felicity continued to claw at the woman’s face and eyes, only for Buser to suddenly throw herself backwards at the wall, causing Felicity to smack into it so hard that all the breath was knocked out of her. 

Her grip on Buser slackened and she felt herself slide off of the woman’s back and down the wall until she was puddled on the floor, gasping for breath. Even as she struggled to breathe, Buser came to stand over her, blood dripping down her face. 

“You’re going to pay for that one.” 

Without warning, Buser’s hand coiled into a fist and as the former member of the Spooky Crew punched Felicity, she felt her brain rattle around within her skull. The blow had caught her squarely in the right eye and for a second, the world exploded in shattered fragments of light. Despite the pain, Felicity made a desperate bid to save herself and kicked out wildly, managing to land a blow on Buser’s leg which made her lose her balance long enough for Felicity to scrabble away. 

Brie Larvan was still on her feet and Felicity was too jacked up on adrenaline and fear to think of anything more elegant than simply rushing the petite blonde at top speed. As she drew near to her, Felicity gave the other woman a mighty shove. Brie went flying, much to Felicity’s relief, and she was free to continue her charge towards where Helena and Chien Na Wei were still engaged. Chien Na Wei was so focused on Helena, she didn’t seem to notice Felicity’s approach and so Felicity tapped the woman’s shoulder. Instinctively, Chien Na Wei glanced her way and as Felicity waved at her nemesis, Helena wound up and landed a punch so solid that it knocked Chien Na Wei unconscious. 

“Nice job,” Helena muttered and Felicity shook her head, looking at Helena in terror. 

“Praise later - escaping now!” 

Flanked by Helena, Felicity hurried back towards her cell. Carrie had managed to shake off Reston, which left just Brie and Laura to contend with. The two women glanced from Felicity to her protectors and then, with baleful looks, they shrank away, allowing the trio to pass by untouched. Without delay, they made a beeline for Helena and Felicity’s cell and to Felicity’s surprise, Carrie crammed inside with them. 

“Are you alright sugar?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Felicity answered honestly, the words coming out pitched with the fear she could no longer keep at bay. Carrie gave her a searching look, then stepped closer to inspect her. The redhead wasted no time in tilting Felicity’s head back so she could examine it, her lips pressing together into a thin line. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s _too_ deep. You’ll probably have a nasty headache though,” she surmised before she gave Felicity’s cheek a gentle pinch, which made Felicity squirm. 

“It’s not my head I’m worried about,” Felicity grumbled as she tried to shake off Carrie’s poking and prodding hands. She caught Helena’s eyes meaningfully and saw understanding dawn. As Felicity watched, Helena went to her own bunk and after a moment of rifling, she produced the signal jammer. 

“Okay, we’re clear,” Helena nodded and Felicity sighed. 

“They threw me into a wall and I took a hard fall. I… I _think_ I was able to absorb most of it with my left hand,” here Felicity lifted her still smarting appendage, “but...I-I’m not sure. It definitely hurt when it happened - and still does” 

“Let me see that,” Helena instructed, putting out an expectant hand. Felicity winced but complied, laying her left forearm across Helena’s open palm. Some painful poking and prodding ensued, which Felicity couldn’t help but whimper at. 

“I can’t rule out a break,” Helena said at last, shrugging her shoulders heavily. “I’m no doctor but you’ve either badly sprained it or broken it, near as I can tell. How does your...abdomen feel?”

The two shared a knowing look and Felicity closed her eyes to try and sift through the various sources of pain her body was still taking stock of. “M-My sides hurt. Mostly my left one,” she confessed, popping her eyes open in time to see Helena bite her lower lip in uncertainty. 

“So we take her down to medical. She’s maybe got a broken arm and a few broken ribs; that isn’t the end of the world, especially given how badly those four wanted to eat you up,” Carrie pointed out but Felicity could only feel an ever growing knot of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Medical.

Would they be able to tell she was pregnant? Perhaps it was silly and unfounded but Felicity felt sheer terror at the idea of consulting with a medical professional, even if doing so would reduce her pain. And what if they prescribed painkillers?! She’d have no way of knowing if they were safe for the baby or not, so she absolutely wouldn’t take them. Would they try to force her to medicate herself? The list of concerns seemed to grow and spiral the more that Felicity thought about it.

“No medical,” Felicity protested, shaking her head resolutely.

“Felicity-” Helena began but the bespectacled blonde could only shake her head all the harder, refusing to budge. 

“I said no, Helena. I won’t do it. It’s too much of a risk. I’d basically be making myself a sitting duck.” 

“If we’re careful it won’t be a risk but it _will_ prevent further suffering. You’ll need two functional hands when you get out of here,” Helena pointed out and Felicity shut her eyes as she tried to breathe through her panic. Helena raised a good point. But still, she could feel the cold claws of paranoia and doubt sinking deeper into her psyche. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Helena and I will go with you; no one will lay a hand on you. We’ll be by your side every step of the way - you won’t be a sitting duck. Cross my heart,” Carrie remarked playfully but Felicity felt something within her snap. 

“I’m not worried about the inmates getting their hands on me, I’m worried about the doctor figuring out that there’s a little sitting _duck_ \- _ling,”_ Felicity cried softly, sinking onto her bed and hanging her head in anguish. Her shoulders slumped and it was all she could do to keep her sobs quiet when all she wanted was to wail and keen (those pregnancy hormones were really dialed up to ten these days). This was all so, so, _so_ much harder than she’d thought it would be.

But even as Felicity spiraled, Carrie was connecting the dots; when Felicity looked up at her, she could see the fiery haired young woman’s face had lit up with wordless joy. She stole closer to Felicity, kneeling before her cautiously.

“You and lover boy… are having a baby?” Carrie whispered animatedly and Felicity sniffed quietly before she nodded, brushing away the tears from the corners of her eyes with her good hand while the injured one smoothed across the front of her prison uniform. Her fingers spread across the tiny but growing bit of real estate that she had come to consider her baby bump and she felt herself settling at this small sense of connection to her unborn child. This tiny scrap of magic that was half Oliver and half her. 

“Y-Yes. We are. But no one can know - if the prison staff finds out, they’ll tell the man who framed me and had me thrown in here.” 

“Diaz,” Carrie offered and Felicity nodded weakly. 

“Yes. And he won’t hesitate to kill us both.”

Silence fell between the trio then as the other two women puzzled out what to do. Felicity, however, had already made her peace with suffering in silence. She wasn’t going to risk her child. 

“Felicity, we need to take you to the infirmary,” Helena said gently at last, ignoring the little dismissive bob of her head that Felicity gave by way of answer. “If your abdomen really did take a hit or two in that fight, we need to know what we’re up against,” the former Huntress reminded Felicity delicately and it was all she could do to stave off tears once again. 

“And how do we get a diagnosis without consenting to x-rays or ultrasounds, hmm?” 

“We’re prisoners. We’ll make it up as we go. But I promised Oliver I would take care of you in here - and that’s a promise I intend to keep. Besides, if you’re in pain and your body is under constant stress, that can’t be good for the baby. We need to get you taken care of and keep your stress as minimal as possible. And don’t even argue with me. You know I’m right,” Helena effectively silenced the objections Felicity had been about to raise and she found herself open mouthed but silent. 

Looking from Helena to Carrie in turn, Felicity couldn’t deny that the two women were right. 

She needed medical attention. And her fears were, at least partly, unfounded. It wasn’t visibly obvious that she was pregnant. The doctor wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at her, or by putting her arm in a splint or the like. The more pressing concern was if the doctor needed her to take off her top; Felicity wasn’t about to go flashing her baby bump around. And if more tests were called for, Helena had already said they’d figure something out. But Felicity _did_ need to take care of herself - if not for her own sake, then for the sake of the child she was currently growing. 

“I-I’m scared,” Felicity confessed tearily, only to feel a warm hand land on her knee as Carrie attempted to comfort her. 

“You don’t need to be afraid; you’ve got us. And your lover boy is waiting for you on the outside. Between all of us, we’ll keep you and the little duckling safe.” As she finished speaking, Carrie reached a hand out to tap Felicity’s nose with a small smile and Felicity followed suit through her tears.

“Thank you. Both of you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Now… Let’s get you over to the infirmary,” Helena instructed. Nodding, Felicity began to get to her feet, assisted by Carrie, who Felicity realized was limping.

“Carrie, what happened to you?” 

“Unimportant, sweets. Just a little souvenir from our ‘meeting’ with the quartet back there,” Carrie rolled her shoulders and waved her hand in front of herself, unperturbed. Glancing from Carrie to Helena, Felicity narrowed her eyes. 

“What about you? How hurt are you?” 

“On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst? This doesn’t even register as a one for me,” Helena scoffed, though Felicity could see from the way that she carried herself, Helena had taken a few mean licks during the fight. She seemed to be favoring her left side and there was something off about her stride. 

“You’re all seeing the doctor or else I’m not. Deal?” Felicity offered point blank, disinterested in letting this become a discussion. If she was getting medical attention, they all were. End of story. 

The trio swept urgently through the prison halls and Felicity was relieved to see neither hide nor hair of the four troublemakers that had attacked her earlier. As the adrenaline from the attack wore off, Felicity became increasingly aware of how much pain she was in and she had to admit to herself, Carrie and Helena had probably been right to insist on medical attention. Her head throbbed and she could feel where the blood from her head wound had dried and caked to her skin and hair. Her sides ached and moving too quickly caused a sharp jab of pain. But it was her fear for the baby’s safety that overrode everything else, sending her aches and pains to the background as she tried to focus on the little life she was harboring. 

She hadn’t felt the baby move yet. And while she had (discreetly) checked the prison library for books on pregnancy, unsurprisingly there were no such books for her to read that would tell her if that was normal or not. And the prison computers weren’t connected to the internet, so it wasn’t as though she could ask Helena to Google it for her. 

When should she feel the baby? She was at least two months along, likely more. And while she kept telling herself it was probably normal not to feel anything yet, she would have felt so much better if she could have felt the baby move, letting her know that all was still well. But no matter how hard she focused, Felicity could feel nothing but her own body and her own pain - no magical flutter of tiny life sprang into being to nullify her fears. 

Felicity was so focused on trying to sense her baby that she did not notice when the little group arrived at the medical ward. It was only when an eerily familiar voice spoke that she came back to the present.

“Hello Inmates. Care to state your business?” 

Standing just inside the door to the infirmary was none other than Doctor Schwartz. Felicity found herself gaping at the woman like a fish out of water, utter disbelief and shock written on her features. When the two women made eye contact, Felicity saw Dr. Schwartz’s eyes widen and quickly skim over Felicity, taking in her battered state with concern. Before Felicity could say or do anything more than gawk, however, Helena stepped protectively in front of her, shielding her from Dr. Schwartz. 

“You’re new,” Helena commented icily, and Felicity could see the slender young woman’s hands twitch, her posture stiff as though gearing up to fight again. “What happened to Doctor Smythe?” Helena queried, her tone guarded. With a start, Felicity realized Helena was afraid that Doctor Schwartz was a plant of Diaz’s - rather than the truth that she was a plant of _Oliver’s_.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Inmate, but she is currently on Sabbatical,” Doctor Schwartz answered crisply. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside, it looked as though your companion there was injured and tending to injuries is something of a forte of mine. Or did you need to see my medical degree first?”

Helena turned and looked at Felicity over her shoulder, the question in her eyes clear. Felicity nodded and stepped forward as Helena moved aside for her, giving Dr. Schwartz a clear line on her at last. 

“Our friend here slipped in the shower. Hit her head on the way down and landed hard on her side. We’re worried about internal injuries, so we thought we ought to bring her up here.” Helena stated blandly, with precisely the sort of excuse that one would expect in prison. 

No one ever got into fights in Iron Heights. They just ‘fell in the shower’. _Hard._

The doctor craned her head to look past Helena at Felicity, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of her, which Felicity imagined could be none too pretty at present. 

“That’s quite a remarkable fall, inmate.” 

“I’m remarkable like that,” Felicity shrugged, following the doctor as she gestured at the open door behind her. As Felicity trudged inside, she heard the sound of Helena and Carrie shuffling along behind her until Dr. Schwartz stepped in between Felicity and them, her hands held aloft. 

“Much though I admire the loyalty and camaraderie, I’m afraid doctor visits require patient confidentiality so I must ask you two ladies to step outside. I assure you I’ll have your friend returned to her cell in the same state she arrived here. Perhaps even better.” The woman remarked with gentle dismissal. Helena and Carrie both eyed the doctor warily and then Felicity, who gave them a nod of consent. 

“We’ll be just outside. Come to think of it, I think I tweaked a muscle in my leg in the yard. Might be a pinched nerve. Better have you check it out next, Doc.” Carrie stated with an edge in her voice that Felicity recognized as her way of warning the doctor that she would be right outside if she – or anyone else – tried any funny business with Felicity. 

“You’ve got dibs on the next appointment for the exam table, inmate.” Dr. Schwartz acknowledged breezily, standing aside in the doorway so that Felicity could enter the premises. “I have to warn you, inmate, if you have any funny business planned, I have a panic button on my person and if I press it, twenty COs will be in here in five seconds flat. So I advise you to behave yourself, for your own sake.” 

“Duly noted.” Felicity murmured as she stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looking around uneasily. She was now realizing that, while she believed she could trust Dr. Schwartz, she did not have her signal scrambler with her - so she wasn’t about to speak about the real purpose for her visit today without one. 

Frak. 

As Doctor Schwartz closed the door behind her with a soft _‘click’,_ Felicity felt a knot of panic begin to form in her stomach. How was she supposed to convey to the doctor what she _needed to_ without risking being overheard by a listening device? She and Helena had fished enough bugs out of their shared cell for Felicity to know without a doubt that they were trying to listen in on her. She couldn’t risk speaking about the baby here without a signal scrambler. 

“Well Mrs. Smoak-Queen, first things first, I’d like to address your facial laceration. I can’t do much about that shiner on your eye except give you some ice while you’re here. And I’ll want to see where on your abdomen you hit when you landed ‘falling’ in the shower.” 

This last made the doctor roll her eyes and Felicity swallowed nervously and nodded. “Sure, thank you.” 

The doctor quietly went about stitching up her face, with only the minor impediment of Felicity wincing every time she caught sight of the needle being used for the stitches. As the doctor worked, all was quiet in the small infirmary room until, with a soft clatter as she set aside her tools, the doctor spoke. 

“Your team sends their regards. And your husband sends a great many things but foremost amongst them are these.” 

Dr. Schwartz reached a hand into the pocket of her lab coat and revealed a bag of pills, prompting Felicity to go wide eyed until she managed to school her expression.

“And those would be…?”

“For the tiniest archer in all the land, according to your husband.” 

Felicity felt her stomach do a flip and fear screamed through her as she shot a hand out to cover the hand of pills the doctor had extended towards her and Felicity glanced around in visible distress. 

“I think you’ve been misinformed. You should be careful who you say things like that to, the wrong person might think you were serious,” Felicity rushed, stumbling over herself as she searched the room for surveillance devices that even now were probably transmitting her secret to listening ears and watching eyes on Diaz’s payroll. 

Doctor Schwartz had gone tense at Felicity’s reaction and looked shaken as she gently pried Felicity’s hand off of hers and held both hands aloft in surrender before slowly moving one hand into her other coat pocket to reveal a small device of familiar design.

She had her own signal scrambler?!

“I’m sorry. I should have led with this. Oliver equipped me with everything we need to circumnavigate security. This little thing here is allowing one of your teammates to hack into the video feed and create an altered loop _and_ scramble any listening devices that might be within range. As far as the guards know, I’m still working on stitching your forehead laceration. That’s why I couldn’t make myself known to you right away – we had to get enough footage for them to convincingly sabotage the feed first,” Schwartz explained, prompting Felicity to visibly relax as she realized that, somehow, Oliver had managed to not only get her a doctor on the inside, but to provide her with the tools necessary to keep the true nature of her medical care secret.

God, she loved him.

“You have no idea how good it is to have you here,” Felicity breathed in relief, looking up to meet the woman’s gaze. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, Mrs. Smoak-Queen. It’s my job to take care of people - I couldn’t very well say no when your husband asked. And from the looks of it, I’m not a moment too soon. I’m assuming you didn’t really ‘fall in the shower’?” Dr. Schwartz snorted and Felicity gave a hollow laugh.

“No. I didn’t. I’m… not exactly popular around here, what with Oliver’s pending charges for allegedly being the Green Arrow…” Felicity trailed off, suddenly aware of the amused look the doctor was giving her. Of course - Dr. Schwartz knew all too well how accurate those vigilante charges against Oliver actually were.

“Right… those _‘alleged’_ charges. Well, I can see how that would certainly put a target on your back. Do you need me to get the guards to make those two outside scram?” Dr. Schwartz offered and Felicity felt an affectionate smile steal across her face.

“What, Helena and Carrie? No. They’ve been protecting me all along. Suffice it to say, my husband has seen fit to send more reinforcements in addition to you,” she explained and the doctor nodded her understanding.

“I see. Probably wise, all things considered. So tell me: how far along are you? Your husband was less than forthcoming with the details.” 

“That’s because he doesn’t know many of them. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was already in custody and I didn’t get the chance to tell Oliver about the baby until my sentencing.” Felicity explained a little sadly, offering a weak smile to her lab coat wearing guardian angel. 

“It seems your little one has some impeccable timing,” Dr. Schwartz commented in a gentle, teasing tone and Felicity gave a single, soft laugh of amusement. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she sighed, feeling a heady rush at being able to speak freely about her unborn baby without fear of being heard by one of Diaz’s cronies. Shaking her head to refocus, Felicity returned her attention to the doctor. “I’m not exactly sure how far along I am. By my own best estimates, I’d say I’m no less than eight weeks. If I had to hazard a guess? I’d wager I’m probably further along than that.” 

Sure, she’d been under great stress at the time she’d realized she’d missed her period but Felicity felt rather confident that it was the baby, and not stress, that had caused her to be late. Call it a mother’s intuition, call it self awareness, call it whatever - she just felt rather convinced that this baby had been conceived during the prolonged interlude after her and Oliver’s wedding, but before they’d dived back into Team Arrow duties. Those languid, delightful weeks where they’d given themselves a free pass to stay home in bed together rather than face the world? 

Yeah. That seemed like precisely the kind of time she would have gotten pregnant. 

“Well we’ll find out soon how far along you are. Ready to get a listen to the little guy or gal?” Doctor Schwartz queried and Felicity sat bolt upright on the exam table, blinking owlishly 

“You mean-?”

“I mean, it’s time for you to get an ultrasound so we can make sure that the little one is really in there, where it’s supposed to be, and not rattled around by your experiences here so far.” 

Felicity was frozen in place by her own shock, her eyes wide with disbelief as she tried and failed to process what was about to happen. 

She was going to get an ultrasound. She was going to see her child for the first time. Without Oliver. In prison. With the all too real and heavy knowledge that both she and her child were at mighty risk of harm. But nonetheless, _she was going to see her child today_. Whatever conflicting emotions she had about the circumstances, nothing could diminish her joy over the knowledge that she would get to see the little life she was harboring. 

“I-… Is there any way I could borrow your cell phone to call my husband? It just… It would make me feel better to be able to share this with Oliver, since he can’t be here…” Felicity explained haltingly, feeling small and sad as she pleaded for the opportunity to include Oliver, keenly aware that it would kill him to miss a pivotal moment such as this. He’d missed so much with William. She didn’t want him to miss any more than he had to with this child. 

Doctor Schwartz broke into a smile and nodded, going across the room to open a drawer and returning a moment later with her personal cell. 

“By all means - it would be my pleasure.” 

“Thank you,” Felicity breathed in relief, quickly tapping away at the phone. In short order, she was punching Oliver’s phone number into Dr. Schwartz’s phone and pulling up his contact to FaceTime him. It wasn’t until she hit the button to video chat him that she truly realized the weight of what was happening here, in this moment.

She was going to see Oliver’s face. For the first time in a month, she would get to lay eyes on him. Her heart began to accelerate as the phone connected and the next thing she knew, the other side of the connection sprang to life before her. She could just make out what looked like the interior of Oliver’s mayoral office before he adjusted the angle of the phone, bringing his face into view. For a second he was frowning at the screen in confusion and then, the moment he processed who he was on the line with, she saw his brows raise and his lips part in surprise.

Glancing from the phone to someone off screen, she could see him open and close his mouth several times as he held a single fingle aloft, wordlessly pleading with her to wait.

“E-Excuse me? Can I have the room please? We’ll resume this later. This is a personal call and it really can’t wait, I’m very sorry,” Oliver explained to whoever was in his office with him. She could hear a muffled response and after another ten seconds or so, Oliver looked back to the phone, his expression pinched with worry. 

“Are you alright?! What happened to your head? Did someone hurt you? How’s the baby? Are you with Doctor Schwartz right now? What does she have to say about your head?!” The rapid fire nature of the questions betrayed how concerned he truly was and Felicity couldn’t help the soft chuckle and the silent tears that were her unconscious reaction to seeing him. 

“We’re alright. I got a little banged up, nothing to worry about,” she reassured him, doing her level best to act nonchalant even though the combined forces of the quartet who kept trying to jump her made her feel anything _but_ nonchalant. 

“You’re a terrible liar, Felicity,” Oliver remarked, his face looking strained as his eyes roved hungrily over her features. “You’ve got stitches though, so you’ve been to medical - you talked to Doctor Schwartz?” 

“I’m here right now,” Felicity explained, tilting the phone to bring Dr. Schwartz into view. “Say hello to our guardian angel! She’s letting us hijack her phone for this but I’m assuming you knew that since I’m betting you have her number saved in your phone...” 

“Doctor Schwartz,” Oliver greeted warmly and Felicity could tell, his tone was one of genuine relief and comfort. “I’m glad you found her. Thank you.” 

“Happy to do it,” Dr. Schwartz responded with a bob of her head as she continued to ready the equipment. Felicity slowly panned the camera back to herself, feeling her insides melt as Oliver gave her his classic, dazzling smile. Even if said smile _was_ a little tense with worry.

“That was pretty smart of you asking her to come here,” Felicity murmured approvingly.

“I am married to a genius - some of that intelligence was bound to rub off at least a little bit,” Oliver replied gently but she could tell he was still stressed by the sight of her looking so beat up. 

“Well while we’re on the subject of us rubbing off on one another… Felicity trailed off, her cheeks pinking as she glanced at Dr. Schwartz, who flashed her a thumbs up to indicate she was ready. “As much as I love you, hon, the reason I asked Dr. Schwartz to let me use her phone and call you is because...We’re about to do an ultrasound to get a look at the baby,” Felicity explained, unable to help the confusing storm of emotions warring within her.

She was so thrilled she could scarcely speak. But at the same time, her fingers seemed to ache with the absence of his hand on hers. Felicity wanted nothing more than to have Oliver beside her in this moment, for both of them to be free, someplace safe, sharing this whole wild ride together. But instead? They had to content themselves with experiencing this long distance, through phone screens and the power of technology. 

“An ultrasound?!” Oliver repeated with no small amount of wonder and Felicity hummed delightedly, nodding enthusiastically. 

“Baby’s first; I couldn’t let you miss this,” she whispered and she could see the way Oliver’s eyes glossed over with unshed tears as he struggled for words that, ultimately, escaped him. 

“I love you,” he exhaled at last, shaking his head as he stared at her tenderly. 

“We love you too,” Felicity comforted him, watching how his eyes slammed shut when she said ‘we’. “Now let’s get a look at this little one, shall we?”

“Yes, please.” Oliver stared at the screen with rapt attention and Felicity could only smile at him as she glanced back to Doctor Schwartz, who was standing expectantly beside her. Felicity faltered for a moment as she realized the doctor was waiting on _her._

“Umm. Right, yes. Lifting up the prison duds. Check.” She babbled nervously, lifting up the bright orange top of her prison uniform and holding the bunched fabric in place just below her breasts, thereby exposing her stomach and the baby bump slowly overtaking it. Doctor Schwartz glanced over at her and chuckled, shaking her head softly. Felicity was unaware as to what was so funny until she looked back to the phone screen and Oliver, whose eyes had gone round. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” 

“You umm… Your…” he cleared his throat, clearly struggling to get words out. “You ah...Things have _grown_ ,” he rambled off at last and Felicity snorted as she looked down. 

“My stomach is _not_ that much bigger, Oliver!” Felicity felt panic beginning to rise up within her. Had she misjudged her own stomach? Was she being obtuse and blind and putting her baby in unnecessary jeopardy? Should Oliver already have whisked her away? Sure, there was the beginning of a baby bump but even now, with her stomach exposed, it wasn’t _that_ pronounced! 

“I wasn’t talking about your stomach, babe.” 

Felicity’s runaway train of thought came to a screeching halt and she quirked one brow at him, pressing her lips together to try and stifle a smile, with mixed success. 

“You’re incorrigible _,”_ she teased, only for Oliver to shrug on the other side of the phone, his eyes sparkling as he continued studying her. 

“I like to consider myself something of an expert on all things _you_ , sweetheart. It would be neglectful for me _not_ to notice.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” she chuckled, smoothing back her uniform before she turned to look at Dr. Schwartz, who was watching on in silent amusement. “Sorry. We’re ready!”

In short order, the obstetric jelly was spread across her stomach and the doctor was moving the wand across her midsection while studying the screen. A grainy scramble of black, white, and gray appeared on it and Felicity felt her entire world narrow to the tiny figure that showed up near the bottom of the frame. Small as it was, Felicity could make out the head, the body, and what looked possibly like a couple of limbs. She was so engrossed she almost missed Doctor Schwartz speaking to her. 

“I’m proud to introduce Baby Smoak-Queen to the world. You can see the head here, arms, legs, and what looks to be an adorable little bottom,” Doctor Schwartz explained, pointing to each region as she went. “Baby looks good, Mama. Growing where he or she should be, good looking gestational sac and this right here is the yolk sac.” The doctor continued to explain before pausing to do something on the computer. 

“Felicity,” Oliver’s voice was hoarse and as she turned the phone so she could see him, she saw his eyes were swimming with tears. No small wonder - hers were as well. 

“That’s our baby,” she breathed and Oliver bit his lower lip and nodded, looking like he was on the verge of passing out. 

“Yeah it is,” he exhaled, staring back at her with such profound, unadulterated love that it made her cheeks flush. “I love you. You’re incredible.” 

“I love you too,” Felicity hummed, smiling joyously as she tilted the phone back to the screen so he could continue to watch their baby and she did the same, utterly engrossed. This was their _baby_. This was the product of her and Oliver’s love. This was their impeccable genetics coming together to form a tiny, wondrous new life. It stole her breath away to look upon the grainy little image and know that, a few months from now, she’d be holding her child in her arms. An entire, small person of her and Oliver’s making would be shepherded into existence.

They were parents. _Again_. And it was both magical and terrifying.

Felicity continued to drink in the images on the screen, utterly enchanted already by the tiny life sparking within her. She was so engrossed, she didn’t realize Dr. Schwartz was fiddling with the machine until the most amazing sound she’d ever heard came through the speakers. It was a quiet, life giving _womp-a-womp-a-womp-a_ that came galloping through the airwaves and prompting the tears crowding her eyes to spill over.

“And that is your baby’s heartbeat,” Schwartz announced cheerily, flashing a smile at Felicity as she glanced at her from her vantage manning the machine. A few more clicks of the computer and the doctor looked over again, smiling. “Heartbeat is within normal, healthy ranges. There’s no signs of any concerns or conditions at this point. I’d say right now everything is looking good.” 

Felicity beamed, barely able to hold the cell phone steady as she listened to the sound of their baby’s heartbeat, beating faster than she could believe.

“It’s heartbeat is faster than my rambles when I start babbling…” Felicity murmured in amazement and she heard Oliver make a quietly amused noise on the other end of the line. 

“Like mother, like child,” Oliver sighed in a voice so soft and tender it gave her pause. And then, with trepidation, she heard him ask the doctor something else. “The baby’s okay? And Felicity is too? They’re both okay?” It was obvious Oliver needed to hear it said plainly.

“The baby is okay, and Felicity appears to be okay as well. You can breathe, Oliver: they’re both healthy, minus a few bumps and brusies on this one,” Doctor Schwartz confirmed with a nod and a smile of understanding. Felicity could hear his shaky exhale. Felicity knew that Oliver had likely been on pins and needles until hearing those words leave Doctor Schwartz’s mouth. “I’d say your inclination was right, Felicity. You look to me like you’re close to twelve weeks along, perhaps a little shy of that but I would wager not by much. Based on our measurements here today, I’d put your due date at October 17th give or take - the equipment here isn’t exactly the most state of the art for these things,” she explained apologetically but Felicity could hardly focus. 

Her head was swimming with this news: the due date and the heartbeat and the ultrasound all coming together to make it all so much more real. She’d known, logically, that she was pregnant. And emotionally she’d already been attached to and protective of her unborn baby. But now she had heard the beating of the tiny heart being given life inside of her and in that moment, Felicity knew she would have done most anything to keep that heartbeat safe and strong. _Anything_. Every surge of maternal affection she’d felt towards William was echoed here and now, as she stared at her youngest child, knowing it was her duty to keep this child safe at all costs.

“Congratulations Smoak-Queens - you’re parents!!” 

\-----

Felicity had left the infirmary floating on a cloud. She passed by the CO in the hall, pausing only for a moment as she realized that Helena and Carrie were nowhere in sight. Not wanting to dally, she began the walk back to her cell, hoping she’d find the two women there. Tucked into her uniform, she felt the reassuring weight of the prenatal pills the doctor had given to her. And despite the nagging pain in her side (owing to what the Doctor had confirmed as a broken rib) and the pounding headache, Felicity felt an almost delirious euphoria that had nothing to do with the over the counter pain meds she’d been given.

Seeing Oliver alone would have bolstered her; getting to share their child’s first ultrasound with him, even if done remotely? It had renewed her flagging spirits and had fanned the flames of her sense of hope amidst all the darkness. Saying goodbye to him had been wretched, but he had informed her that Jean was in the process of lodging a formal complaint against the prison for denying Oliver the ability to visit her, and both he and Jean expected the prison to relent and allow him to see her soon. 

They’d seen their child together. She’d seen Oliver’s face, heard his voice. They’d exchanged soft declarations of love to one another. It was perhaps a small thing in the scheme of things but to Felicity, in that moment? It had been _everything._

When she finally made it back to the cell block and slipped into her cell, she found her duo of devoted protectors waiting for her, both pacing with fury.

“ _There you are_. Come here, let us see you.” Helena demanded as Felicity walked in, still wearing a dazed grin. Dimly, she was aware of Helena mashing down the button on the signal disruptor and then she stepped forward briskly. Helena grabbed Felicity gently by the chin and moved her face from side to side so she could survey the neatly stitched gash on her forehead and the swollen, black eye she was nursing.

“One of the COs decided to be a royal prick and didn’t let us wait in the hall outside of medical. And given everything, I thought it best not to create a fuss. How’s the rest of you?” Helena asked tightly and Felicity knew the brunette was actually inquiring about the baby. 

“Clean bill of health, relatively speaking. Best as we can tell? I have a broken rib and my arm is sprained but it seemed like my abdomen mostly avoided damage.” Felicity explained, still in a stunned state of glee from having had the opportunity to hear her child’s heartbeat _and_ to video chat with Oliver. 

“Why do you look so happy about that? Aren’t you afraid that the internal injuries might extend… past your rib?” Carrie questioned, inclining her head silently in a gesture clearly meant to convey concern for the baby. 

Felicity sat down on her bunk, her fingers slipping into her pocket and withdrawing the prenatal pills for the other women to see.

“The doctor is a friend - Oliver asked her to come be here, to help take care of us. We can trust her. She did an ultrasound. The baby’s fine. More than fine, great actually. Almost twelve weeks old and due October 17th according to the doctor,” Felicity reassured her guardian angels and both women breathed sighs of relief. 

“Well, tell your husband that that was a smart play,” Helena flashed a grudging smile as she acknowledged that Oliver had been a step ahead of her. “We can’t take proper care of you but a doctor can certainly get us close.” 

Felicity nodded, slowly reclining back onto her bed to rest even as Helena tidily hid away the pills where prying eyes and searching COs wouldn’t find them. Even as she allowed her body to relax, Felicity could feel the pain meds starting to work, blunting the sharp aches of pain coming from the rest of her body and allowing her to fall into a much needed, restful sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

After the day of the attack, Felicity found Helena and Carrie redoubling their efforts to keep her safe. There was nowhere she could go that they did not follow. When she showered, one of them showered next to her while the other stood guard. And as her baby bump slowly continued to take shape? That proved a necessary tactic. Though Felicity could hide the growing swell beneath her clothes, in the shower? She and the baby were very much exposed. Showers began to become a quicker and quicker affair.

Meals also began to change; both Helena and Carrie seemed to watch what Felicity ate with laser-like focus and it became a habit for them to give Felicity their vegetable or fruit servings so she got the calories she needed without having to rely as heavily on the prison’s less than healthy offerings. Much though Felicity would have been content to survive on macaroni and cheese, her protectors had other ideas. Carrie became quite the little thief, prone to nicking apples and pears and pocketing them for Felicity to keep in her cell and eat later, to help stave off the morning sickness. As she was entering her second trimester now, Doctor Schwartz had told her that the morning sickness would hopefully lessen, but Felicity was still struggling with it. Making matters worse was the fact that it was rather difficult to come by saltines or ginger water in prison and those would ordinarily have been the doc’s go to recommendations for Felicity.

So she continued to hurl. Because of course she did. Felicity ought to have known that a child of Queen genetics was going to be difficult, even in the womb. 

But for as under the weather as she felt a few days later, Felicity was practically vibrating with anxious energy because word had come through that Oliver had finally been able to get permission to come and visit her - this time by more traditional methods.

She was going to see Oliver _and_ William properly. Today. At visitation. 

By the time she was due to head down to the visitation hall, Felicity was practically bouncing in place, so overflowing with eager energy. When it finally came time for the Corrections Officer to escort her down the long hallway, she was nearly vibrating with excitement. To keep herself calm, she forced herself to focus on counting ceiling tiles, an endeavor which occupied her for all of one hundred and seventy two tiles before she and her entourage of guards rounded a corner and her ‘calm, cool, and collected’ façade melted away in an instant.

Settling herself onto the cold metal stool, Felicity could feel her eyes welling with tears that she did her level best to bite back as a (mostly steady) hand grabbed up the phone that offered a small connection to the individual waiting for her on the other side of the glass. 

“Hey.” 

It was a single word, barely a passable greeting, yet it was all the more that she could manage as she looked through the glass upon the face of her son. 

“Hey.” 

His response was subdued but she sensed it was due to concern for her rather than from a lack of enthusiasm at seeing her. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. She could feel his eyes running across her face though, lingering at her still healing forehead laceration and her still darkened black eye. Before he could ask her about them, she jumped to speak first.

“I really hate to be that person, because I was always annoyed when people said it to me as a kid, but I swear William, you must be growing exponentially. I mean it!” Felicity squawked as William rolled his eyes at her good naturedly. “You’ve grown so much,” she rambled, smiling through the tears shining in her eyes as she looked at him, drinking in the sight of him looking entirely too grown up. 

In response, William cracked a minute smile and shook his head at her, though he did her the courtesy of indulging her. 

“I think this place has gotten to your brain, Felicity. You’re confusing a linear growth rate for an exponential one,” he grinned a little wider at his own math based humor and it was all Felicity could do not to cry as she laughed. It felt good to laugh in earnest. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like. 

“You know you are so right. But I can’t be held responsible for that. I’m hardly exercising my mind in here like I did when I was helping you with your homework. Speaking of which – how’s school?” 

And just as easily as that, the two of them fell into the same old easy, relaxed, fast flowing conversation that had always been their way. William, seeming to sense her unwillingness to talk about her injuries, told her instead about his classes, about his homework, about how he was making friends, and about how he had joined the robotics club at school. Felicity asked him about his grades, his grandparents, Oliver, and what had happened on the episodes of Doctor Who that she’d missed. They were still going full swing some ten minutes later when a large hand clapped warmly on William’s shoulder as Oliver slid into view. Felicity drank in the sight of him, making note of the bags beneath his eyes and the echoes of bruises across his face.

He looked like he’d been through hell. And knowing her husband? He probably had been, without her around to reel him back.Instinctively, she reached her free hand forward to touch her fingertips to the glass as she yearned to touch him and feel the warm, yielding flesh of his body.

He was looking at William and offering him an encouraging smile but even as Felicity watched, Oliver’s gaze moved hungrily up to her face, his eyes meeting hers and holding them steadfast. William looked between his parents with understanding and he leaned forward, touching his fingers to Felicity’s outstretched hand, separated only by the glass. 

“I’ll let you guys talk… Felicity? ...I love you,” he murmured warmly and Felicity could hardly speak for the knot in her throat. 

“I love you too, William,” she returned with such genuine affection, she nearly lost her composure. With a wave and a lopsided smile, William offered the phone to Oliver and then left the visitation area, though Felicity’s eyes stayed trained on him every moment.

“Oliver wait, where’s he going? It’s not safe, he shouldn’t be alone-” Felicity protested with concern but Oliver just shook his head reassuringly, holding one hand aloft to quell her.

“John is out there waiting for him; he’s safe, Felicity. Don’t worry.” After a beat, Oliver leaned in closer to her, producing one of the now infamous signal jammers and pressing it for her to see before pocketing it again. He turned to her then in earnest, fear blazing in his eyes.

“How are you?”

He was worried. It was obvious in every line of his face and in every syllable he spoke as he looked her up and down, his gaze stuttering to a momentary stop at her stomach before traveling back up to her battered face. 

“I’ve been better,” she admitted, trying and failing to ignore the ache twisting her guts up like spaghetti twirled on a fork. “I’m not sleeping. I miss you. I’m worried about you,” she couldn’t hold back the words that flowed out of her so readily as she looked at him, haunted and hunted and beaten. How many hours this week had he spent prowling the streets in search of a lead to get her out of here? She worried that the number would concern her. 

“Don’t worry about us. We’re managing,” Oliver rushed to reassure her, leaning in closer to the glass separating them as he devoured her with his eyes. As she watched, he laid his hand flat on the glass and she moved hers so that, were it not for the glass separating them, their hands would be perfectly knitted together. “Can Doctor Schwartz prescribe anything to help you sleep?” Oliver asked worriedly and Felicity shook her head. 

“Not an option,” she reminded him, giving the barest flick of her eyes to her stomach and Oliver bit his lower lip. _The baby_. She wasn’t taking any chances of a medication negatively impacting it and while Doctor Schwartz would have happily found her an alternative option, doing so risked drawing Diaz’s attention. Not to mention, pregnancy aside, she doubted Diaz would okay her being given anything that made her time here more comfortable. Pain killers? He’d veto them in an instant. The whole purpose of throwing her in here was to make her (and Oliver) suffer. 

“Felicity… What happened to you?” Oliver asked at last, his voice hoarse and she had to swallow and duck her head as she tried to decide how to answer him. Part of her wanted so badly to lie, because a lie would be kinder on his heart than the truth. But honesty was something she demanded from him - she couldn’t very well lie to him now just because the truth was difficult.

“I’m not exactly a crowd favorite here,” she announced at last with a fluttering, uneasy smile. “And some of my less than adoring fans wanted to make sure I knew where I ranked with them. But Helena and Carrie swooped in before any irreparable damage was done,” she explained and then, quietly. “We’re okay, Oliver.” 

“Nothing about any of this is ‘okay’, Felicity,” Oliver corrected sharply, only to slam his eyes closed. His hand drew away from the glass and passed over his face as he struggled to compose himself, clearly upset. “I’m sorry. I’m upset but I’m not trying to take it out on you,” he attempted to explain but Felicity shook her head with a quiet sound, silencing him.

“I know, Oliver. And I know how hard this is on you - and William. You forget - I _know you,_ Oliver. And I know that since I was taken into custody? You haven’t known a moment’s peace. It’s written all over your face. And I know you blame yourself for all of this,” she swept her hand away from the glass to gesture around them, “-and I know that you are killing yourself trying to get the evidence we need to get my charges dismissed. But I am here to tell you, Oliver Queen, that _none of this_ is your fault. I need you to know that. And I need you to give yourself permission to _breathe_ ,” she demanded softly, watching as Oliver fought to maintain his crumbling composure.

“God I love you. And I miss you,” Oliver confessed brokenly and Felicity felt tears spill down her cheeks, prompting her to close her eyes and nod as she swallowed, trying to find her voice.

“I love you too. And I miss you - both of you. So much.” 

Oliver ducked his head and wiped at his eyes then glanced around carefully before he turned back to Felicity, his voice barely a whisper. 

“How are you and the baby?”

Warmth spread through her, moving up her chest and neck and settling in her cheeks as she bit her lower lip and looked shyly at her husband. “We’re good,” she hummed, desperately wishing she could have stood up to lift her shirt and show him the bump, but keenly aware that would draw too much unwanted attention. 

Instead, she settled for filling him in on every painstaking detail she could. 

“I still have awful morning sickness though. And the bump is getting bigger - still easy enough to conceal though. But I can _feel_ my pants starting to fit differently, and don’t even get me _started_ on my boobs…” she trailed off, having watched Oliver’s smile grow with each word. 

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Felicity chuckled self consciously and Oliver could only shake his head. 

“You’ve never looked more beautiful.” 

“Flatterer,” she accused teasingly and he could only shake his head, his eyes twinkling merrily. 

“No, I’m being honest, Felicity. You’re... _stunning_ ,” Oliver breathed in awe and Felicity chewed at the inside of her lip to bite back a smile. 

“You’re just saying that because you miss me.” 

“I miss you more than words can say. But you are _also_ more gorgeous than you’ve ever been before. I mean it; you’re so brave and so strong for our family and now this? I’d break through this glass and kiss you if it wouldn’t get us into trouble,” he admitted freely and Felicity sucked in a breath at the mental image, unable to help how a bolt of desire lanced through her. 

“Oh, I miss you too. So much that that _almost_ sounds like a good idea,” Felicity sighed and she heard his soft chuckle in response. 

“Soon. I promise. I’m getting you out of there.” 

“I know you will.”

Silence fell between them and Felicity let her gaze fall to the glass that separated them, hating it so much in that moment that she could have screamed. She hadn’t held him in her arms in _months._ She hadn’t shared his bed in _months_. He hadn’t been able to share in any of the pregnancy milestones or moments with her up to this point. And none of it was _fair._ It ate at her, in a way she couldn’t explain. Looking at her husband, longing to touch him, but being denied it? That was a brand of torment she had not fathomed before now. Even as she looked at him, she could see the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, and the sweat upon his brow. He looked strained and every bit stressed and she wanted little more than to go to him and to hold him and be held by him in return. 

“Speaking of all that…” she trailed off unevenly, struggling with how best to broach the subject, “...Umm… Have you got any leads?” 

The way his face fell told her everything she needed to know before he said a word. 

“I reached out to Noah,” Oliver began and Felicity felt her jaw drop in surprise before she leaned in closer, the phone pressed tight to her ear. “-and he reviewed the evidence against you. Felicity… he says they really are your digital fingerprints. Which means that they were probably pulled from something you _actually_ did and layered over those other files,” Oliver tried to explain and Felicity felt her heart quicken.

“Diaz doesn’t have that kind of skill,” she pointed out, only for her husband to nod.

“I know. He’s clearly got someone else working for him. Your dad and Alena and I-”

“Alena?!” Felicity squawked in surprise. “As in… Helix Alena? _That_ Alena?”

“One and the same,” he confirmed proudly and she could only raise her brows at him in surprise. Clearly Oliver was pulling out all the stops. “Anyway - we’re working to figure out who has the necessary skills to pull that off. They are telling me it’s a short list.” 

“They’re right. Any familiar names turn up?” Felicity queried curiously. Oliver went preternaturally still and she narrowed her eyes at him in an instant. _“Oliver.”_

“Cooper,” Oliver offered quickly, his voice quiet but undercut with an unspoken rage. “Cooper is on the list. But he’s gone... I know. But he's on the list and...it's too much to be a coincidence, right? It doesn't matter though. He’s a ghost in the wind - even your dad and Alena can’t seem to track him down. We’re back to square one.” 

The look on her husband’s face told Felicity plainly just how distressed he was by the progress (or lack thereof) on proving her innocence. She stared at him intently, wishing desperately that she could get rid of the glass that separated him.

God, she wanted to hold him. And not just because her ex-boyfriend might have returned from the dead to haunt her. It wouldn't be the first time someone they thought dead made a reappearance. But still.

Seeing her watching the glass, Oliver seemed to sense her growing distress and he spread his hand back across the glass once more, his voice a gentle brass rumble as he spoke to her again. “Felicity...honey… I promise you, I will get you out of here. Both of you. And I promise you that our family is going to be together and safe. Helena and Carrie aren’t going to let anything happen to you. Doctor Schwartz will take care of you and the baby. And Jean and your father and Alena and John and I are going to get you out of here - the right way,” he murmured with a confidence that Felicity desperately hoped was genuine and not just bluster and bravado to make her feel better.

“Promise me we’re going to decorate the nursery together,” she answered back, flattening her hand against the glass to mirror his. She could perfectly envision the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of his callouses, and the soothing little circles he always drew on her skin when they held hands. 

What she couldn’t replicate, however, was the way holding his hand made her feel. Warm. Safe. Loved. Only he could so effortlessly do that for her. 

“I promise you. Do you hear me? I _promise_ you, hon. We’re going to make it through this,” Oliver vowed, ever steadfast. And then, his voice fell into that lower, softer register that he saved especially for her. “We can decorate the nursery with elephants.” 

For whatever reason, that got her and Felicity quirked a brow at him, even as her lower lip wobbled with emotion. “Elephants?” 

Oliver smiled, and his fingers twitched in such a way that she just knew, he was feeling the separation acutely in this moment too. She could all too easily picture him cupping her face in his hand, or wiping away her tears with his thumb. But instead, she had to settle for envisioning it rather than experiencing the reality. 

“They nurture and protect and encourage their offspring,” Oliver explained shyly, ducking his head. Something about the words seemed… rehearsed, almost? Polished? She couldn’t put her finger on it. 

“Is that so?” 

“It is. Or at least, that’s what my parenting book tells me,” Oliver admitted and Felicity felt her lips pull into a wide smile. _Bingo._

“You’ve been reading parenting books?!” She’d spent plenty of evenings curled up with a glass of wine and a book on her tablet but seeing Oliver reading was a rare but treasured delight of hers. He liked the classics and when he read, he did so with purpose, not at repose but hunched over reading in such an active looking stance, it was as if he were ready to throw the book down and run off at any moment. She’d always teased him about it but she found it endearing, in truth.

To think that he was now poring over parenting books? It thrilled and moved her.

“Well, yeah,” Oliver dismissed, leaning away from the glass and rubbing the back of his neck a little self consciously. “I wanted to know what to expect, and how to support you - both of you - through this.” 

“And elephants are the way to do that?” 

“Apparently it’s a parenting style focused on supporting and encouraging children...well, _always_ , but _especially_ while they’re in those key, impressionable first few years.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yes,” he shot back quickly but without heat, instead seeming excited. “I want to be an elephant parent, Felicity. I want our children to feel loved, no matter what they do. I want our children to be supported and to know that we’ll always be there for them - both of them.” 

Felicity could have cried hearing those words fall from the lips of her husband. It was simply too perfect and poetic. 

“Elephants sound pretty nice,” Felicity hummed back and Oliver seemed to slump as he nodded, a bit more relaxed. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

They shared a warm smile then and Felicity felt, for the briefest of moments, as though maybe, _just maybe_ everything really would be alright. Just then, Felicity saw movement in her periphery and looked to the side just in time to catch one of the prison guards approaching her. 

“Time’s up, Inmate.” 

It was like having the rug ripped out from under her and Felicity found herself spluttering in protest. “I-I’m supposed to have more time! My husband and I have barely gotten to talk-”

A quick glance at Oliver showed that he wasn’t taking the news of the early termination of their visit any better than she was. Oliver looked as though he’d been sucker punched in the gut and even as she watched, his hands curled into white knuckled fists, his nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a wild gleam as he caught sight of the guard’s hand on Felicity’s forearm, pulling her forcibly up and out of her chair. 

“I said _time’s up, Inmate!”_ growled the guard and Felicity swallowed thickly, retreating inward upon herself for safety as she gave a morose nod and looked back to Oliver apologetically. Through the phone line, she murmured a hurried farewell. 

“I have to go, Oliver. But I love you. I love you so much. Please, don’t give up. Keep trying. And take care of yourself and William for me,” she hastened, barely getting the last bit out before the guard took the phone from her hands and slammed it back onto its hook on the wall. She could see the shell shocked expression on Oliver’s face and she could see that the wild look in his eyes had only grown worse since the guard had showed up.

In truth? He looked like he would have happily put an arrow in the guard. Or maybe three. There was no denying the utter aggression that had crackled to life in his eyes, or the taut lines of his posture as he stood on the other side of the glass, practically snarling with rage at this latest in the long line of injustices being carried out against them and especially her. As she watched, Oliver jumped to his feet and beat his fists against the glass. And though she didn’t have the phone to let her hear his side of the glass, she didn’t need to hear it to know that he was screaming her name as she was hauled away.

Despite her husband’s obvious distress, Felicity could not risk fighting with the guards, so she allowed herself to be led out of the visitation area and back to the main prison. She longed to quiet him, to wrap her arms around his waist and hold him. To twine her hands through his. To run her fingers through his hair. But these were thoughts she needed to box up and put aside for later. She was reentering the belly of the beast - she couldn’t afford to let her guard down. She needed her wits about her - Chien Na Wei and the others could be lurking around any corner, waiting for her. And she could _not_ let them catch her off guard again.

As she reentered the familiar prison halls, Felicity suddenly felt as though she could scarcely breathe. Ah. A good old fashioned panic attack. Of course. Because that was _just_ what she needed now. 

With her heart aching, Felicity made her way back to her cell, mercifully without incident. And it was only once there, under the watchful eyes of Helena, that Felicity gave herself over to the tempest of emotions that her hormones and seeing (and then being parted from) Oliver had stirred up. And after she had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, Felicity felt herself slip into a restless slumber. 

\-----

It was hours later when she awoke; the prison had quieted considerably and Felicity could tell that it was night. But despite this, she was also aware of voices coming from outside her cell. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she felt almost drunk as she blinked around, trying to place the voices that sounded from outside. 

“Felicity-” Helena’s voice, though edged with sleep, was sharp and Felicity could hear her stirring in the bunk above her just as the sound of jangling and footsteps sounded from directly outside their cell.

“Inmate 11900 - front and center!” the guard barked out and Felicity struggled with the blanket on her bed for a moment before she freed herself from it enough to rise to her feet.

“Y-Yes?” 

“You’re going to the Infirmary, _now_!” 

“What’s the bright idea waking us up in the middle of the night for this? She hit her pretty little head days ago, big whoop,” Helena growled, falling into her role as disgruntled roommate with ease. The guard’s eyes snapped to her, sparking with anger. 

“I don’t believe I report to you, Inmate!” 

Felicity and Helena shared an uneasy look and just as Felicity saw Helena begin to wrap her fist in the blanket of her bed, another voice cut through the screaming panic in Felicity’s head.

“Officer, there you are. Thank you for helping me get Inmate Smoak to the Infirmary, I don’t know how her medication didn’t get dispatched, I’ll have to look into that. I’ll administer them via IV and we’ll get her back to her cell as quickly as we can - isn’t that right, Mrs. Smoak-Queen?” 

Doctor Schwartz had appeared, looking entirely calm and matter of fact as she swept into the fray, looking from the CO to Felicity and back again expectantly. With grudging acceptance, the officer grunted a noise of agreement and then quickly shuffled Felicity out of the cell, locking it behind them before escorting her to the Infirmary, where Doctor Schwartz once more came to the rescue.

“Thank you so much, Officer. I can take it from here. I’ll radio you when she’s finished,” the doctor explained firmly. Felicity watched nervously as he considered the doctor’s words but to her relief, the officer in question finally acquiesced with a shrug and just like that, Felicity and Doctor Schwartz were alone in the exam room.

“What is going on here!?” Felicity gasped out fretfully and the doctor shook her head, rifling through her pocket to suddenly thrust her cell phone into Felicity’s unexpecting hands. 

“Your teammate, Mister Diggle? He called and told me I needed to get you on the phone with him ASAP,” she rushed and Felicity had just enough time to suck in a breath before she bent over the phone, her fingers flying across the numbers as she dialed John, her heart hammering. 

“Thank god,” John’s voice broke across the line and Felicity felt her heart twinge worriedly. 

“John? What’s going on? What’s with the 911 treatment?!” 

“Felicity, it’s Oliver.” 

As easily as that, her heart fell to her feet and Felicity felt herself struggling to breathe. “What happened?” she pressed and John wasted no time in filling her in.

“He got dosed with Vertigo. I don’t know how you just have to trust me that that’s what happened,” he explained and Felicity felt her body go tense. 

“Frak!” 

“Extremely so, yes,” John commented without missing a beat.

“How?!”

“I’m not entirely sure of the ‘how’, but three guesses as to the ‘who’,” John offered and Felicity glowered darkly in response.

“Diaz.” 

“That’s my guess, yeah. I didn’t know what was going on when Oliver came back from seeing you, but he was erratic and irate and _ranting_ about the prison and you and it just… it wasn’t making any sense. When we left visitation today, he was distraught and we nearly came to blows in the parking lot but I wrote it off as him being stressed and upset about leaving you. But just a bit ago when I was in the bunker? He was raving about watching you be beaten and dragged off by a guard-”

“ _-WHAT?!”_ Felicity gasped, flabbergasted at this distorted version of events. Suddenly, she recalled the sweat she’d seen on Oliver’s brow, the bloodshot quality of his eyes and the wild gleam to them. The way his hands had curled into white knuckled fists, him beating against the glass as she left visitation - all of it painted such a clear picture in light of the news of his Vertigo dosing.

When he’d been to see her at visitation, he’d already been getting hit with the effects. No small wonder the guard coming to terminate their visit early had set him off and left him with a distorted sense of what had really happened. Oh god. _Oliver._

“My response exactly. We both know there is no Earth where Oliver watches the love of his life and mother of his children be beaten and dragged off without breaking the glass to come to your rescue and lay a serious hurt on the person responsible,” Diggle reasoned and Felicity couldn’t even form words so she settled for a forced little hum to encourage John to go on. 

And go on he did. 

“Long story short? I dug into it and found out he got dosed with a nasty batch of Vertigo. Felicity… he’s completely off the rails. I can’t talk him down. We fought-”

“John!”

“I was trying to stop him! He’s going to the police station. He and Alena figured out that the feed over there cuts out at the same time every night and we figure it has to be Diaz meeting with all the people he’s turned. Oliver’s going down there now, Felicity. He says he’s going to kill them as vengeance for them killing you.” 

She very nearly vomited at the mental image of her Vertigo dosed husband throwing himself into the jaws of death by placing himself in a situation where he would be badly outnumbered and outgunned. 

“Oh my god,” she gasped and Diggle made a soothing noise on the other end of the line.

“I know, okay? I know. But I’ve got Alena working on it, she’s going to patch you through to his comm. I’m driving across town to get to the station now but he’s going to get there before me. Felicity… You’re the only one who can talk him down.” 

“O-Okay,” she exhaled, attempting to piece her thoughts together while attempting to brainstorm a speech that would convince Oliver, through the drug induced haze, to stand down and come home. She didn’t have long to prepare though - not a minute later, she heard John speaking with someone on the other end of the line - Alena, she’d wager - and the next thing she knew, she heard a static crackle and then, more distantly and echoey than before, she heard John.

“Okay, Felicity. He can hear you.” 

“Oliver? Oliver can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Oliver, hon I need you to listen to me. It’s me, okay? It’s Felicity. I’m right here and I’m okay. Did you hear me? I’m fine. I’m not dead, no one dragged me off and beat me, okay?” 

“That’s a lie.” 

His voice was tight and sharp, all jagged, broken edges and fierce heartbreak. It stole her breath away but Felicity would not be discouraged; her husband’s life was on the line. She wasn’t about to quit.

“That’s _not_ a lie. Listen to me. You can hear my voice. I’m right here, Oliver. I’m right where you left me. At Iron Heights. And I. Am. Fine. _We_ are fine. Both of us.” 

“You died. I saw what they did to you. You… and our baby,” his voice broke at this last and Felicity inhaled raggedly, her hand falling to her stomach as she tried to draw strength from the very child he believed dead. 

“Oliver, the baby and I are fine. I promise. We’re right here, babe. I’ve got my hand on the little peanut’s baby bump right now,” she attempted to reassure him, only for him to let loose a wail of grief and rage on the other end.

“YOU’RE LYING. You’re not REAL!” 

“Felicity, he’s almost to the station,” Diggle warned in a low tone and Felicity felt her heart take off like a jackrabbit as she attempted to devise a new strategy. Talking to him wasn’t working. He wasn’t listening to her, wasn’t _hearing_ her. She needed to make him listen. But how? 

“Oliver? OLIVER! Listen to me!” Felicity raised her voice, too afraid of attracting the attention of any of the guards to shout in earnest as she wanted to. “Don’t! _Don’tdon’tdon’tdon’tdon’t_!” Felicity rushed, the words tumbling out of her mouth in the most rapid ramble she’d ever used. 

She _had_ to get through to him. 

“Do not go into that station. Inside of the building there’s a bunch of trigger happy cops just waiting for you. It is a trap!”

“You’re dead. You’re a ghost. A hallucination.” 

“No I’m _not_ , Oliver! It’s me. Okay? It’s the real me. I am alive and I am begging you, _do not go into that police station_!” 

“I have to. I have to avenge you and our baby,” Oliver growled raggedly at her and Felicity closed her eyes, hating the utter agony and brokenness she could hear in every word he uttered. He wasn’t listening. And try though she might, she couldn’t seem to get through to him. And without a cellphone with which to video chat him, she had no way of proving herself alive and well to him.

Unless…

Swinging her eyes to Doctor Schwartz, Felicity felt a sudden jolt of inspiration. 

“Doctor Schwartz, I need you to do an ultrasound _right now;_ we have to save my husband,” Felicity directed and to her relief the doctor complied, darting into action. Felicity quickly scrambled up onto the exam table, preemptively pulling her prison duds out of the way so the doctor had a clear space on which to do the ultrasound. And then? She did everything in her power to keep him on the phone, to keep him distracted and slow him down to buy time.

“You will stop him, Oliver. But not like this. Not tonight. And not by killing him. We will stop him. Together. And we’ll do it the right way.” 

“He is right on the other side of that door!” Oliver roared, sounding so feral and unlike _her_ Oliver that it sent goosebumps across her skin. 

“You know who else is on the other side of that door? A bunch of angry cops just waiting for you! You go through that door, what happens to our children? They grow up without a father? Don’t do that to them, Oliver.” 

“William lived most of his life without me already, he’ll be okay. He’s never needed me. Thea and John will take care of him. The...The baby is gone. ...And so are you,” Oliver whimpered and Felicity bit back a gasp that was equal parts response to Oliver’s words and reactionary as the cold ultrasound jelly hit her stomach. Doctor Schwartz mouthed an apologetic ‘sorry’ but carried on, her fingers flying as she readied the monitor and began to guide the wand, probing Felicity’s stomach intently.

“No we aren’t. That wasn’t real, Oliver. William needs you. The baby needs you. _I need you._ The baby and I are alive. The real me is on the comm with you right now. And I’m not going anywhere,” Felicity growled with fierce determination, desperate to get through to him. “I’m glue, baby.” 

Her eyes skittered to the monitor, where she could see the pixelated images swarm to life. Just a few more moments, and they’d have what she needed. 

“Please, Oliver. The Vertigo is making its way through your system. It’s on its last gasp so just… Just _listen_. Listen to my voice. I know it feels like you have lost everything,” Felicity pleaded, glancing at the doctor expectantly. Doctor Schwartz fiddled with the controls, holding up a single finger. 

“I don’t know how to tell if you’re real,” his answering rumble was still dangerous and teetering on the edge but she could sense the barest glimmer of hope in it. 

“That’s the Vertigo - it’s just messing with your head. Don’t trust it. Okay? I know that right now… you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. And you don’t know what to trust and what not to trust. But if you trust nothing else, trust your heart,” she instructed, just as Doctor Schwartz flashed her a thumbs up and the familiar, galloping little fetal heartbeat punctuated the airwaves. 

“-and if you can’t trust your heart? Then trust our baby’s,” Felicity finished before she thrust the phone towards the monitor, placing it as close to the speaker as she could manage. Her eyes slammed shut and Felicity tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d just put all her eggs for saving Oliver’s life into this basket. 

It would be enough. It _had_ to be enough. 

_“Felicity?”_ Oliver’s voice was fragile and fractured but there was the tiniest identifiable scrap of hope in it and she felt herself cling to it, like a shipwreck victim holding onto flotsam in the storm. 

“I’m here, Oliver.” 

“I-Is that?...” he trailed off plaintively and Felicity had to slam her eyes shut to stave off the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. 

“Our baby’s heartbeat? Yeah. It is,” she assured him with ample tenderness and an upwelling of love. It was working, _thank goodness_ , she was getting through to him. “Listen to it. We’re okay. Both of us. And we will all be okay but Oliver, babe I need you to get as far away from that police station as you can, you hear me? Because if anything happens to you, none of us will be okay.” 

The sound of a deep, quavering breath met her words and Felicity felt as taut as one of Oliver’s drawn bowstrings until she finally heard his voice crash through the airwaves. 

“O-Okay,” he agreed and Felicity could not bite back the soft whimper of relief that she released as she listened to Oliver begin to retreat away from the station. 

“Felicity I’m thirty seconds out,” John broke across the line and Felicity nodded, not that John could see her, not daring to say anything to him for fear of breaking Oliver’s focus.

“You hear that, hon? John is coming to get you. He’ll be there in less than a minute and then he is going to take you home and get some meds into you. You’re going to be just fine, Oliver.” 

“Just...Just don’t leave me,” Oliver returned in a voice that was more husk than human. He sounded so positively _broken_ and it wounded her. 

“Never,” she confirmed, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edge of the exam table as she did her best to ground herself. And through it all, Doctor Schwartz kept the wand trained over Felicity’s stomach, the telltale _womp-a-womp-a-womp-a_ heartbeat still pouring forth from the speakers. 

In time, she could hear John’s voice breaking over the line of the comm and Felicity knew without having to be told that he’d found Oliver, mercifully alive and relatively no worse for wear after the entire Vertigo induced trip. 

“Felicity? I’ve got him. He’s safe. We’re en route back to the bunker and then I’ll get him cleaned up, dressed, and home,” John explained, his tone offering succor and encouragement. “He’s gonna be fine, I promise. You did it. You stopped him from going in. If it weren’t for you…” She could practically _hear_ John’s shudder. 

“Th-Thank you, John.” Felicity sounded hoarse even to her own ears but she didn’t care. This was her husband. Her family. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done - in truth, she was just glad that the heartbeat had broken through the drugs to get to Oliver’s heart and his head in time to stop the worst from happening. 

“I’ll get an update to the doctor to give to you later,” John promised and with an uneven breath, Felicity forced herself to cooperate. She was in prison. She couldn’t help directly in most situations; the best she could do was to be on the other side of the line whenever they needed her. And that? She could and would do, so long as Doctor Schwartz was able and willing to put a phone in her hands. 

Felicity slowly pulled the cellphone away from the speaker as the line went dead and she weakly handed the device back to the doctor, who accepted it gently and with concern before she cut the ultrasound, drawing her wand away and pulling the plug on the monitor. 

“Did it work?” 

“Yes. He’s safe,” Felicity offered worriedly but with profound thanks. “I appreciate your help - we all do, truly. Oliver would have been killed today if no one was able to talk him down in time. And instead, thanks to you? He’s going to live long enough to meet this little one.” 

Felicity’s hand fell to her stomach, gently stroking the soft planes of her midsection as she tried to quell the queasy, shaking sensation that was rising up and cutting off her windpipe. 

“Felicity? Are you alright?” Schwartz asked softly and Felicity could not hold back the tide any longer. She buried her face in her hands and gave herself over to the wracking sobs she’d been keeping pent up behind locked doors in her mind. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Felicity cried openly, unable to deny the toll that all of this was taking on her any longer. Being in prison had been one thing to consider. Being in prison _pregnant_ while her loved ones were being hunted and threatened by a lunatic like Diaz? That was entirely another and she could feel how the strain was making her buckle beneath it. 

She couldn’t keep this up forever. She wasn’t even sure if she could don a convincing enough façade to get her escorted safely back to her cell. Good lord, she was a _mess._

“Listen to me, Felicity. You are so strong. And no matter how awful things seem right now, they _will_ get better. You have arguably one of the most devoted guys in the world looking for evidence that you were thrown in here wrongly. He’s going to find that evidence, mark my words. Until then? You need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep breathing - and the rest will follow.” 

“Nothing about me or any of this feels strong.” 

“But you are. Believe me. Take your own advice - if you trust nothing else, trust your own heart. And listen to it. I’m sure it’ll tell you the same thing - you’re a fighter and a survivor and you’ve been doing a brilliant job of both ever since you set foot in this place,” the doctor assured her, laying a comforting hand on Felicity’s shoulder before she set about cleaning up Felicity’s stomach post-ultrasound. In short order, Felicity had pulled herself as close to ‘together’ as she was liable to get and the doctor summoned a CO to escort her back to her cell, where she promptly threw herself on her mattress without a word to Helena and then? Not for the first time that day, Felicity cried herself to sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

Cravings. They were a sick pregnancy joke and one that Felicity had grown to resent. Being in prison meant that, unless she suddenly started craving canned cream corn or ‘Sloppy Joe’ mystery meat, she was SOL in the cravings department. Most days she could get by without it being too much of a hassle. But following her late night rescue attempts of the week prior, Felicity’s emotions had started to run away with her - something she had quickly dismissed as her simply having ‘off days’. 

But a visit to Doctor Schwartz had turned up a concerning, albeit not surprising, new development: her blood pressure was high. 

“On a scale of one to winding up wrongfully imprisoned, how bad is high blood pressure while pregnant?” Felicity asked, concern etching her features.

“It’s not unheard of and there are some easy steps we can take to remedy it; this is on the low end of the scale right now. If your blood pressure keeps going up, then we can be more concerned,” Doctor Schwartz answered her honestly and Felicity nodded, her mind buzzing. 

“So what do I need to do?” 

“Minimizing salt in your diet is a good start, which I recognize is difficult when everything you eat is from a can. Do the best you can there. If there’s anything that resembles whole grain, that’s another good diet choice. And so is potassium - if you can snag bananas, tomatoes, or raisins, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” the doctor elaborated as she draped her stethoscope around her neck and surveyed Felicity thoughtfully. 

“If you can try for a half hour of exercise a day, that’s a good start. Even if it’s just thirty minutes of walking. I know there’s plenty of well justified reasons to hide out in your cell with Helena standing guard, but movement will help.” 

In the mental catalogue of ‘things to be terrified of’’ which Felicity had been keeping and maintaining since she had arrived at Iron Heights, she mentally shoved ‘getting shivved in the yard’ lower on her list of concerns and instead, replaced it with ‘not getting enough exercise to help the baby’. The baby was her priority - always. 

“I’ll talk with Carrie and Helena about it. I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

“And the last thing that you can do - and I recognize that what I’m about to say sounds phenomenally stupid and impossible - but you need to figure out a way to destress. The more stressed you are, the higher your blood pressure will be, no matter what you eat or how much you exercise,” Schwartz warned gently and Felicity had to press a hand to her temple as she actively tried to reduce her stress. She envisioned her stress dissolving into the air, leaving her free and unencumbered, but still she felt that vice like grip tighten around her heart, clenching wretchedly at her and leaving her still feeling strained. 

“Some deep breathing exercises and meditation or yoga might help with that,” the doctor advised softly, arching a brow Felicity’s way. “I’m sure there are books about it that I could get for you?” 

“No - I can’t risk someone learning the real reason behind having a book like that in my possession. I’ll just...do some intentional breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. All that jazz,” Felicity explained with a small babble, a forced smile, and a casual toss of her hand. 

“Felicity? You don’t need to put on a brave face or joke around with me. I’m your doctor. You can be honest.” 

Felicity’s lips twitched downward and she nodded. “Can you help me?” she asked at last and the brunette nodded her willingness. 

“Absolutely.” 

For a brief moment, Felicity warred with the idea of having Doctor Schwartz tell Oliver to come and break her out. If her health - and therefore the baby’s - was at risk, there was no choice to make. Felicity would rather live a life on the run than risk her children’s wellbeing. 

“Doctor Schwartz, can I ask you a favor? ...May I use your cell phone to send Oliver a message?”

This surprised the other woman; she turned a pair of bright and piercing eyes on Felicity, studying her a moment before she finally caved in with a slow but certain nod. “Felicity...I took a sabbatical from my _actual_ job to come here and protect you and your baby. Compared to that, lending you my phone doesn’t even qualify as a favor.” 

Felicity’s cheeks flooded with heat and she inhaled in surprise as she and the doctor stared at each other. “Have I said thank you lately for doing all of this on our behalf?” 

“You have.” 

“Well it never hurts to hear it again. Thank you, Doctor Schwartz.” 

“I took an oath,” the doctor shrugged nonchalantly but Felicity was not to be so easily swayed.

“You took an oath but it wasn’t to me or my family. But you’re helping us just the same, at great personal risk and cost. It means more to us than you could possibly know.” 

“You and your husband have saved countless lives in this city; my job is to save lives and minimize suffering. You’ve helped in my endeavors to do that. The least I can do is help you get back to that.” 

With still pink cheeks, Felicity offered the other woman a shy smile and then began to draft a message to Oliver, keen to update him but wary of alarming him. She was all too aware that Oliver would require only the slightest provocation to come storming the castle, so to speak. And if there was any chance of Felicity getting out of here legally? She wanted to do it. Her stress levels? She could work on that. Now...now wasn’t the time to call in the cavalry. Not yet.

> _Oliver,_
> 
> _You’ll be pleased to know the little peanut and I got checked out by Doctor Schwartz today. We got a mostly clean bill of health. My blood pressure is a bit elevated but at this point, Doctor Schwartz says we don’t need to start worrying - yet. In other news, I’m officially showing. Pump the brakes - not anywhere near enough for you to come swooping in just yet. Enough that someone seeing me naked would know that I’m more than just bloated or the like. Good thing I’m only naked here for showers and Helena and Carrie use themselves as human shields. There’s never another time or place I’d be naked for it to be visible, so that works to our advantage. That being said, when I’m out of here you and I are going to hunt up some time for mint chip. Comprende? ;)_
> 
> _I love you. I miss you. I hope the search for evidence - and Cooper - is going well. In other news, Carrie snuck down to the laundry machines and managed to get me a new set of clothes, one size up from my old ones. Not that prison fashion is flattering or form fitting, but we figure the more baggy and the more space, the better, right?_
> 
> _I should probably go. Poor Doctor Schwartz is totally stuck being the go between for us and I sincerely doubt that passing love notes between husband and wife is what she signed up for. But at any rate, I do love you, Oliver. And I can’t wait for the day our little family is all under the same roof again. I believe it will happen. Hopefully very, very soon._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Your favorite human incubator & co. _
> 
> _P.s. We need to agree on a nickname for this little one. I’ve been using ‘peanut’ but I’m open to suggestions. Please don’t say Little Archer. I would really like to keep our child away from pointy objects if at ALL possible._
> 
> _I love you, ABSolutely._

Felicity gave the note another read through and then glanced up to the doctor, hovering nearby patiently. “You really are a lifesaver. I hope you know that.” 

“So you keep telling me,” Doctor Schwartz remarked with a wink. “Now, I’d like to do just a couple more things and then I-”

A booming knock cut her off mid sentence and Felicity and the doctor alike nearly jumped out of their skin. Looking worriedly to Doctor Schwartz, Felicity began to throw up her mental defenses again, having let her guard down to write her little love letter to her husband. Now, Felicity found her skin prickling with awareness as she waited to see who was on the other side of the door - and why. 

It was Doctor Schwartz who moved first, crossing the space of the room and letting one hand alight on the door handle, only to spin back to look at Felicity scrutinizingly. Holding aloft a single finger to demand silence, the doctor slowly cracked the door open, careful to keep herself between Felicity and the person doing the knocking. 

“I’m here to escort Inmate 11900 to visitation. Now.” 

“Inmate 11900 is receiving a medical exam to assess whether or not her previously sustained injuries have healed well, you can get her after I’ve finished.” 

“I have orders to take her to visitation, _now_. You can finish your assessment later,” the guard rebuffed the doctor and Felicity flinched as the door to the exam room flew open with a _BOOM_ and the guard in question pushed past Doctor Schwartz with controlled rage. “Inmate. On your feet. You’re going to visitation.” 

“I-I’m not scheduled to have any visitors today,” Felicity protested weakly, only for the guard to turn a pair of blazing, wild eyes on her. 

“I don’t recall asking for your commentary, Inmate. On your feet. _Now.”_ For added encouragement, he placed his hand on the taser he wore on his hip, the implied threat impossible to miss. 

“U-Understood. I’m going,” Felicity responded, glancing uneasily at the doctor before she hopped off the exam table and approached the officer, only for him to grab her roughly by the wrist - her _sprained_ wrist no less. “Oww!” Felicity hissed out sharply, only to feel cold metal encircle her wrist as the guard locked handcuffs around her.

“Is that really necessary, Officer?” Doctor Schwartz objected, only for the man to glare at her. 

“Ma’am, you’re new here so I’ll cut you some slack. But the sooner you learn these women are all animals and savage? The better off you’ll be.” Without so much as a backward glance over his shoulder, the CO grabbed Felicity by her cuffed wrists and hauled her in front of him, forcing her to walk in front as he began to bring her to visitation. Her last glance at Doctor Schwartz showed the woman was angry and concerned but for all intents and purposes her hands were as tied as Felicity’s were. 

“Please bring my patient back when you’ve finished with her,” the healer remarked at their retreating figures and Felicity swallowed. For some reason, she had a feeling she was going to need Doctor Schwartz’s assistance when all of this was said and done. And that thought sat like a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach.

Felicity followed the CO through the prison halls towards the visitation area, her mind buzzing as they drew closer to the familiar room where only that thin barrier of glass separated her from her loved ones. There was something desperately bittersweet about the visitation room and Felicity was already doing her level best to steady herself in anticipation of being in that familiar space once again. But as she walked quickly down the row of inmates conversing with visitors, Felicity couldn’t help but feel curious. Whose presence here at visitation would cause such a stir? Oliver and William’s visit hadn’t warranted such behavior. Nor had John’s. Was this Jean, come with the proof of her innocence that she’d been desperately hoping for? Was it another member of the now somewhat defunct Team Arrow? She couldn’t imagine Rene, Dinah, or Curtis dropping by unexpectedly for a visit. She couldn’t imagine them visiting at all, in truth. They might have agreed to help get her out but Felicity was slow to forgive and she was certainly never going to forget the betrayal that they had meted out to her and her husband both.

But as Felicity was directed to the last in the line of visitation booths, she caught sight of the person on the other side of the glass and everything in her went rigid and cold. 

Ricardo Diaz sat looking smug and self assured as she crossed the remaining few feet between them. She stood awkwardly in front of him, refusing to sit at the booth until the CO shoved her down and forced her to sit. Her shoulders and spine were tense and stiff as her clear, angry blue eyes bore into the dark brown ones that glinted back at her with danger and mirth. 

Every cell in Felicity’s body was humming with nervous energy so strong as to be nearly electric. As she watched the criminal before her, he gestured pointedly to the phone, the warning in the sharp flick of his wrists clear - talking with him was not optional. Warily, Felicity reached forward and grabbed the phone on her side of the glass, pressing it reluctantly to her ear with an angry huff as she waited on him, refusing to speak first.

“Looking good, Blondie.” 

The familiar chortle grated against her, making Felicity almost wish her ears would bleed so she wouldn’t have to listen to this man, this _monster_ , ever again. Not to mention, him using any nickname for her, as if they were _friends_ or familiar with each other? It made her skin crawl.

“What do you want?” 

The words slipped from her lips in a low hiss, heavy with vitriol. This was the man responsible for her being in this prison. The man responsible for endangering the lives of her and her child. The man responsible for the suffering Oliver and William were enduring in the world outside the prison. This was the man threatening her family and her family’s way of life. _And_ he was threatening the city she called home. 

Vitriol was the least of what he deserved. 

“Now what kind of greeting is that? This place must be getting to you - you’re forgetting your manners… Going feral,” Diaz purred, leaving off with a low chuckle as he watched her from the other side of the glass. His lips quirked in a lethal smile and Felicity felt her anger blaze ever brighter within her. 

“Manners are for interacting with people. You’re not a person. You’re a monster,” Felicity shot back hotly, her grip on the phone tightening. “And if you think for one second that I am going to let you get away with whatever your endgame is here, you are seriously mistaken.” 

At this, Diaz leaned forward and leered at her, shaking his head in amusement as he whistled lowly. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the Mayor’s smarter, better looking half?” Diaz mocked and Felicity felt every protective instinct she had dial all the way up. Then Diaz paused and looked at her with faux contrition. “Oh, how rude of me; I forgot, your husband got impeached, didn’t he? I suppose it’s _Former-Mayor_ now, isn’t it?” Diaz taunted, a razor’s edge in every word he spoke. Felicity did her best to school her expression, not wanting to let on that this was the first she’d heard of Oliver’s impeachment. 

_Frak._ What was going on out there!? 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Diaz leered, pulling Felicity’s focus back to the present. “I can tell by the look in your eyes - you still think you have a chance of beating me. But I’ve already won. You’re in here. And soon enough, Oliver will be in a pretty little orange jumpsuit just like yours, over at Slabside. And that’ll leave poor, _poor_ William all alone,” Diaz added, leaning closer to the glass until his breath fogged it. “Orphaned by his two criminal, negligent parents. I suppose he’d get put in the system, wouldn’t he? And we both know how safe the system can - or _can’t_ \- be,” Diaz warned, his voice becoming more menacing as his register dropped lower.

The weight of his words washed over her, the threat behind them not even veiled. He was openly announcing his intentions to go after her son once Oliver was thrown in prison. Diaz was loudly and proudly threatening to harm William. 

Felicity shot to her feet like a rocket, slamming her left palm on the table top with a loud _bang_. The resultant pain reminded her of the sprain she was supposed to be nursing but Felicity didn’t care about the pain. All she cared about was her loved ones - and the man before her was threatening them. With a snarl, she let loose a warning of her own, guttural and primal - a mother’s love unleashed in the name of protecting her child.

“If you so much as come near my son, I will kill you. Do you hear me? I will _end you_ ,” Felicity shouted, dimly aware of a CO moving toward her at the sound of her raised voice. But instead of calming down, she leaned forward until her face almost touched the glass, her blazing gaze fixated on the monster before her.

“You don’t have it in you,” Diaz sneered, taunting her openly now. “I could put a loaded gun in your hand and you couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I could. And I will. Because he is my _son_. And I will destroy anyone and anything that threatens him, or any of my loved ones. Because you have turned me into a person capable of that by putting me in here. And if you think for a _second_ that I won’t do whatever it takes – _whatever_ it takes – to protect my family, you are very much mistaken,” she snarled, trembling with rage even as a CO grabbed her from behind by her arms to restrain her, hauling her away from the visitation booth with force. The phone clattered to the table top and Felicity saw red as she glared back at Diaz, wishing in that moment that she had something better than words and insults to throw at him.

As Felicity watched, she saw Diaz put up a hand to halt the officer from dragging her off and then he leaned in and motioned to the phone. Felicity felt the CO release one of her arms and fuming, she slowly moved to pick up the phone on her side of the glass.

“Your husband is going to prison for the rest of his miserable life. I’ll make sure of that. And once he’s in there, I’m going after your son. And after I do that, I’m going to come back here to pay you one last visit. Then we’ll see who pulls the trigger on who,” he shrugged at her with a chuckle and began to rise, leaning over the small cubicle so he could look down on her in amusement as he waited for a response that he clearly wanted her to give. 

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

“It’s like I said before. I already have. I wanted to torment Oliver. And I have. Because you? You’re his heart. And it’s his heart that I want to crush,” Diaz warned and Felicity felt the true, bone deep fear he'd elicited in her with his threats against William begin to grow at his words now. But she refused to back down. She would not be cowed by the likes of this man - this _animal._

“I have known men like you. And you are all the same. And in the end? People like you always lose. Because you have nothing but yourself to fight for,” she growled, struggling bodily against the CO holding her. The unspoken second half of her words was obvious - Diaz had nothing but himself to fight for. But Felicity? She had plenty of people she loved and cared about, people whose lives and safety she would continue to fight for - and who would continue to fight for her. 

And that included the tiny life growing within her even at that precise moment. 

“You’ve never known anything like me, sweetheart,” Diaz scoffed, watching her in amusement from the other side of the glass. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. And _soon_. Then we’ll have one last chat.”

Then, instead of leaving as Felicity had assumed he would, Diaz gestured to the guard and then the phone and Felicity felt the guard take it from her and place it at his ear before Diaz spoke, his voice still audible to Felicity, albeit faintly. 

“Let her husband in to see her one more time before his trial. But make sure she looks like she’s hurting.” 

“Sir?” 

“Rough her up. But make sure it’s visible to anyone sitting on this side of the glass,” Diaz directed and Felicity’s blood ran cold. “I want her husband to see how much hurt he’s put his wife through. Nothing that’ll send her to the medical ward to recover from, but enough to make her hurt.” 

“It’s not my husband’s fault that I’m in here!” Felicity snapped, her frayed self control snapping as she let on that she’d heard every word. Her voice carried through the line and she saw Diaz pause, his lips turning into a lazy, fear inducing smile. 

“Tell that to his conscience,” he growled with a dismissive wave. And just as easily as that, the guard began to drag Felicity off. And though she fought him, she could feel Diaz’s cold, calculating gaze on her the whole way down the aisle, when a second guard joined the first in containing her and together, they hauled her off in a direction that did _not_ lead to her cell. 

\-----

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when they dragged her to the infirmary; Felicity only knew that Doctor Schwartz was the one person who could help her and she was grateful that these men were taking her straight for her. They might be her enemies but these COs were unwittingly delivering her into the arms of a friend. One of the few that she had in this place. 

The sound of the men knocking on the Infirmary door echoed dully and Felicity had to blink and force herself to breathe deeply and focus. Her vision was blurred, partly owing to her missing (and now broken) glasses and partly owing to the swollen eye she was nursing, courtesy of the very guards whose job was supposed to be to protect her.

Instead? They were just carrying out Diaz’s bidding. 

The sound of the door cracking open met her ears and Felicity forced herself to look at Doctor Schwartz as the woman stoically took in the situation before sweeping her eyes up to the guards.

“Was there a riot between here and visitation?” Schwartz’s voice was impassive, betraying absolutely nothing even in the face of the ruin that the guards had rained down on Felicity. 

“Something like that. Seems Inmate 11900 still hasn’t figured out the pecking order in these parts,” one of the guards supplied smoothly and Felicity could only attempt to swallow thickly at this pathetic cover up. She hadn’t learned the pecking order? She’d known the pecking order since before she set foot in here! 

“She’s supposed to be reasonably bright; I would think if she was unclear as to the hierarchy before, she certainly isn't now,” the doctor replied crisply, opening the door wider behind her. “Put her on the exam table and I’ll take a look at her. Does she have any injuries aside from the visible ones?” 

It was an innocent enough question, and one well within the doctor’s rights to ask. But Felicity could tell that there was a second meaning to this line of questioning: Doctor Schwartz was worried about the baby. 

“Looks like her left arm’s pretty fucked up,” one of the men retorted with a snicker. 

“I can see that from the angle of it, yes,” the doctor replied dryly. “Anything to her abdomen? Do I need to worry about internal bleeding because that’s a whole other matter-”

“Nah, what you see is what you get, doc. It’s her face and her arm,” the other guard responded as the two men strolled out of the room without a backward glance at Felicity. The blonde numbly registered the door closing behind them before she felt cold hands on her chin and Felicity flinched away instinctively, shaking wordlessly as she glanced around and saw Doctor Schwartz standing before her, hands held aloft apologetically. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Felicity. I activated the scrambler. It’s just us, no one is listening. What the hell happened to you?!”

But Felicity was in no mood for explaining. Diaz’s visit was still replaying in her mind and all that she knew was she had to protect. She had to protect _all of them_. The baby. William. Oliver. 

“I need you to get word to Oliver and John Diggle. Tell them Diaz has something planned for Oliver’s trial, something he’s confident in. And tell them he’s gunning for William - if Oliver is found guilty, Diaz will go for William without hesitation. He might not even wait that long. They need to get him somewhere safe,” Felicity rambled with urgency, her bleary eyes locking onto the doctor’s. “Please. You have to help me. He’s going after my family.” 

“I will, I will. But for now, let me take care of you and your littlest one,” the doctor murmured reassuringly and Felicity waffled, her lower lip wobbling at such kind treatment on the heels of the brutal handling she’d just experienced. 

“Call them first. Just to be safe. Please. Then you can take care of us,” Felicity bargained, only to reach out and grasp the doctor by the wrist. “But you cannot tell him what happened to me. Don’t say a word about my injuries.” 

The doctor scrutinized her thoroughly but finally relented. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she murmured at last and Felicity reclined against the exam table, allowing the tension to finally begin leaching out of her. Her good eye fluttered closed as she fought off sleep (or was that unconsciousness? It was so hard to know) while the doctor spoke in a low undertone across the room. When she returned a short while later, her features were drawn and pinched. 

“Your husband has quite the temper.” 

“I should have warned you about that,” Felicity sighed apologetically as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry. How did you explain my not being able to talk to him?” 

“I said you were forced to go back to the cell block for a headcount before you could call him, but I said I’d get you summoned back here later tonight if I could so you could talk.” 

Felicity couldn’t help the look of shock that flitted across her bruised and battered face. “You’re pretty quick on your feet.” 

“I’d rather not get any more practice if lying is what that entails,” the doctor responded back smoothly as she settled on the stool beside Felicity’s exam table. “And for the record? You don’t owe me any apologies; just let me patch you two up, then call your husband back so he doesn’t break in here and put an arrow through me,” she teased and Felicity huffed a single, soft exhale of laughter.

“Okay,” Felicity whispered consentingly, and the doctor’s hands fluttered gently to her face. Even the feather light touch was painful and she winced but tried her level best not to shy away. 

“What happened, Felicity? I need you to tell me everything so I can figure out if anything they did could have impacted the baby.” 

She blew out a slow, stilted breath then and tried to collect herself as best she could. Closing her eyes, Felicity recalled the entire, vicious encounter. 

“They took me into some room… I think it was an old storage room or something? And they… they grabbed me by my arm and threw me into the wall and the next thing I knew I heard a ‘crack’ and my arm felt like it was on fire,” she explained and the doctor practically growled with rage as she reached for Felicity’s arm and began to palpate it gently, ‘tsk’-ing as she did so. 

“So much for nursing that sprain until it could heal; they broke your arm. I’ll need to get x-rays-”

“But the baby!” Felicity interrupted, only to feel a hand cover hers comfortingly. 

“Will be fine, I promise. But I need to see the break so I can set it properly - after all, you’re going to need both hands in good working order when you leave here if you’re going to keep up with that little one after it’s born, right?”

Felicity’s answering nod was subtle but it was enough. “It’ll be okay, Felicity. Keep going. Then what did they do?” 

“They threw my head into the wall and they punched my face… I don’t know how many times.” 

In truth, her face ached all over; her left eye was swollen shut, her lips felt swollen and she was fairly sure they’d split her lip. Even her nose felt bloodied, though she didn’t think it was broken (but then again, she couldn’t be sure). Her cheek stung where the shards of glass from her broken spectacles had cut open the skin, and her whole body felt shaky and unsteady. 

“That’s all that I remember. I just… I hurt. But I don’t think they did anything that could hurt the baby.” 

Throwing her into the wall had scared her but she’d been able to absorb the force of it with the rest of her body in such a way that her stomach hadn’t taken the brunt of it. Thereafter, the damage had largely been focused on her face, with the exception of her arm. Recalling Diaz’s words in visitation, she stirred. 

“Diaz wanted everything to be visible. He wanted Oliver to see me again and to see me beat up and hurting.” 

“What a sick monster,” the brunette hissed and Felicity made a soft noise of agreement. 

“No arguments here, Doctor Schwartz.” 

“Elisa.” 

The word fell sharply off the other woman’s tongue and Felicity could only turn to blink up at her white lab coat wearing savior. “What was that?” 

“My first name. It’s Elisa. At this point, I think we’re a little past all the formalities and ‘Doctor Schwartz’ business, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Despite the pain it caused her to do so, Felicity smiled wearily at the doctor, ignoring the pain in her split lip as she did so. “Thank you, Elisa.” 

“Don’t mention it. Now let’s get you taken care of…” 

Patching her up was a slow affair; x-rays of her arm showed the break was a bad one that would require surgical intervention, which Felicity was staunchly against. She consented to a splint and a sling and continued close monitoring with the understanding that the bones might shift in position and risk the functionality of the entire arm. But Felicity knew surgery would not be an option. Not while she was still in here, hiding her pregnancy. It wouldn’t be safe to go under and risk the baby being discovered. If she needed surgery? It would have to wait until she was out.

Her face was another matter; her earlier head wound had reopened and required stitches (as did her new cheek wound), a grisly affair which made Felicity’s stomach flop so much that she eventually threw up. Her nose wasn’t broken, thankfully, but her lip, Elisa confirmed, was very much split open and so she was given a bit of antibacterial wound cream for it and some ice for her eye. The doctor apologized up and down for not being able to do more but by the time Schwartz was done, Felicity felt nothing but a strong upwelling of love for the dark haired young woman. 

“Add all of this to my tab,” Felicity joked weakly when her medical guardian angel had finished tending to her.

With a snort, the other woman glanced at her and shook her head as she cleaned up the rubbish leftover from treating Felicity. Holding a roll of athletic tape, she brandished it before her thoughtfully.

“Felicity,” she murmured quietly, her dark eyes meeting the blonde’s blue ones as she took a deep breath. “I think it’s time you tell Oliver and your team to get you out of here.” 

Felicity fell still as she looked up at the doctor through her good eye. Instinctively, she went to wet her lips with her tongue, only to wince at the sharp lancing pain the action elicited. “No,” she responded with certainty, her eyes and tone sharpening with icy surety. “If Oliver breaks me out now, it will torpedo his case. This? Diaz did this for a reason. I think he wants to goad Oliver into something stupid, I’m sure. That means we can’t let that happen. So the last thing I’m going to do is let Oliver see me now.” 

“I’m not sure that’s wise.” 

“I don’t have the luxury of wisdom; I can only think about survival - both mine and my family’s,” Felicity responded back hollowly. With a swallow, she moved on to the next matter at hand. “If it’s alright… I’d like to borrow your phone. I need to call him.” 

Elisa pressed her lips together but quietly produced her cell phone from within the deep pockets of her lab coat. As she handed it over to Felicity she held a solitary, scolding finger aloft. “I’m going to ask you to reconsider having him get you out of here - for all of your sakes.” 

With that, she walked to the far end of the room, a clear attempt to give Felicity as much privacy as she possibly could, all things considered. If the doctor left the room, the guards would come in to monitor and that simply wouldn’t do. 

Instead of the warm brass rumble of her husband though, Felicity was met with the robotic tones of his voicemail after several long rings went unanswered. Frowning, Felicity stared at the phone and double checked that she’d punched in the right number. She had. 

_Odd._ She would have thought he’d be pacing a hole through the floor after the doctor’s first call. Shaking off her worry, Felicity left him a quick voicemail, speaking cryptically in a code she knew he would understand as she warned him about Diaz’s visit and the threats he had leveled against her and their family. 

Signing off with a quick but heartfelt ‘I love you’, Felicity hung up and handed the phone back to Elisa, who had circled nearer when it became apparent Oliver hadn’t answered. The two women fell silent for a spell and Felicity did her best to steady herself for returning to the world beyond. 

“Thank you again. For everything.” 

“That’s what I’m here for. But I would very much like to be needed a little less, for both your sakes,” Elisa commented, patting Felicity delicately on the shoulder. With a deep breath, Felicity rose to her feet with only a minor sway of unsteadiness before she had herself firmly in hand. 

It was time to go back to gen pop. And all the hell that would undoubtedly entail. 

As she returned to the main halls of the prison, Felicity moved slowly, each step feeling particularly jarring. Though Doctor Schwartz had offered her medication to help with the pain, Felicity had refused, not wanting any of her senses dulled and certainly unwilling to have any medicine in her system, even if it was safe for the baby. 

She had her teeth gritted against the pain in her arm (which had swollen and bruised considerably while Doctor Schwartz patched her up) and she was keenly aware of her ragged breathing when a familiar voice drew her up short just outside the rec room.

“ _There_ you are!” Helena growled, grabbing Felicity by her good elbow and spinning her to face the brunette. Felicity saw the way Helena’s eyes flew open wide as she took in the sight of her. It was a testament to how close the two women had grown that Felicity could see the rage that sparked within her typically emotionless gray blue eyes.

“Who?” Helena’s voice was so brittle with unadulterated anger that Felicity thought she might snap any moment. But it wasn’t safe; anyone could overhear them here. Glancing around, Felicity took Helena’s hand and ducked into the rec room. They didn’t have the signal scrambler with them, but the sound of the TV blaring in the crowded room would hopefully provide enough cover.

“It was Diaz,” Felicity explained in an undertone as she and Helena took a pair of empty seats towards the back of the room. She saw the creeping darkness enter Helena’s gaze, a darkness she recognized all too well, having seen it try to take Oliver too, in the throes of his rage. 

“He was here? I’ll kill him,” Helena gnashed her teeth and Felicity shook her head, grabbing the other inmate by the hand. 

“He was the one at visitation. He made some threats and then he told the guards to rough me up - and to make sure it was visible so Oliver would see at his next visit.” Felicity could feel the tremor that ran through Helena at this news but she clung to the woman who had become an unlikely friend and ally, pleading with her not to do something stupid. “I already got out a warning. And I got patched up at medical,” Felicity tried to make the two actions sound disconnected, on the off chance anyone was eavesdropping on them. She had to protect Elisa if there were listening ears about. 

“Which guards?” 

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not going to do anything to them.” 

“Like hell.” 

“No. We do that, we bring down pain and danger on our own heads. We’re not doing that. We’re going to be smart. Listen to me - going after them today might feel good for a moment but it would hurt us in the long run. We have to wait; our time will come.” 

She could tell her answer was of little satisfaction to Helena and as the brunette abruptly rose, Felicity could sense that she was going to do something inadvisable. But at the same time as Felicity rushed to her feet after Helena, her eyes caught movement on the television screen at the front of the room. 

The breaking news bulletin at the bottom of the screen read _‘Fire in The Glades’_ but the voice of the reporter was telling another side of the story - one that made Felicity’s blood turn cold. 

_“The Green Arrow was last seen in the center of an altercation moments before the explosion overtook the area. SCPD has yet to issue a statement; we will keep you updated.”_

Felicity heard the rec room go silent and she felt all eyes turn to her but she had eyes only for the screen where the footage continued to play of Oliver in his leathers, engaged in hand to hand combat with armed men up until the screen whited out as an explosion rocked the right side of the frame. 

“No,” she whispered in disbelief, swaying slightly on her feet. But even as she felt her body begin to buckle, she felt Helena’s hands cradle her and guide her back into the chair she’d only just vacated. 

“Take it easy, you’re getting ahead of yourself.” 

“Helena you saw, there was an explosion and he was _right there_.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything. He’s a cat - nine lives.” 

“Don’t,” Felicity growled as she wrapped her good arm around her midsection and hugged herself disconsolately. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” 

“I’m telling you what you need to hear - we don’t know that he was caught in the explosion.” 

“He didn’t answer his phone, Helena. I had to leave a voicemail,” Felicity realized, horror tracing down her spine as she recalled her earlier surprise at him having missed her call. “Oh my god, Helena what if he’s really dead?” 

“Snap out of it,” Helena directed point blank, her tone harsh as she snapped her fingers in front of Felicity’s face. “You’re spiraling.” 

“Call him.” 

“What?”

“You heard me. I don’t have phone privileges. You do. Call him. If you can reach him on the phone, he’s fine. If not…” Felicity trailed off, letting the unspoken possibility hang in the air between them.

If not? She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. 

In short order, Helena intimidated some fresh faced new little Inmate into scurrying off to find Carrie, who apparently had also been searching the prison for Felicity after she had failed to return from her checkup at medical hours earlier. By the time Carrie appeared in the rec room, there were storm clouds in the redhead’s eyes which only grew darker as she caught sight of Felicity as she sank into a chair on the opposite side of her from Helena. 

“Sugar, who did this to you?” 

“You fill her in - I’m going to go make the call,” Helena muttered, disappearing from the room with purpose. As Felicity filled Carrie in, her focus was divided, her eyes trained hungrily on the screen as she waited for another news bulletin, something, _anything_. 

And then another news alert broke across the screen, drawing her full attention.

_“There are no survivors in the explosion that consumed a city block in The Glades earlier this evening. Given the power of the blast, experts say that forensics may be required to determine the fate of the Green Arrow-”_

Everything inside of her screamed in denial and horror and Felicity was only dimly aware of Carrie moving beside her. As her stomach roiled, she realized Carrie had seen the expression on her face and had grabbed a basket from the craft table. Without hesitation, Felicity hurled into it, all too well versed in the motions of it now courtesy of her almost daily morning sickness bouts. 

“Ssshhh, that’s it. Let it out, little duck,” Carrie cooed as she stroked the back of Felicity’s head soothingly. Felicity could only sit and shiver, her eyes still glued to the television, the words replaying over and over in her ears. 

_No survivors. No. Survivors. Nosurvivorsnosurvivors._

Oliver might have died. That explosion could have been the last thing he had seen before death had taken him. For all his promises to William and to her that he would always come home, Felicity knew that in a situation such as this, Oliver wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter. And it agonized her. Her husband could not be gone. William could not be fatherless. The child in her womb could not be fatherless. 

It felt like an eternity before Helena returned but when she did, she knelt on the floor at Felicity’s feet, her hands knitting together to rest atop Felicity’s knee.

“He’s fine. He fired a grappling arrow; he flew backwards right out of the explosion.” 

Felicity stirred, afraid she’d misheard her friend. 

“He’s fine?” 

A slow, serious nod. “Yes. Absolutely fine. Physically, at least. He got your voicemail - he and the team are all over it. William is safe and they won’t come to visitation since you think it’s a trap but that part he’s mighty unhappy about.” 

Felicity’s eyes slammed closed and she nodded, fighting the tears welling in her eyes but already it was a battle she was losing; tears leaked out of her swollen eye without cease and she had too little energy to fight her own emotions in earnest. 

“Thank you, Helena,” Felicity said at last, looking gratefully to the brunette and then to the redhead on her left. “Thank you, Carrie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

This day had been… much too much. The unquenched, desperate need she felt to hear Oliver’s voice? To know for herself that he was alright? There was an ache in her that only his voice, his touch, could heal. And in the absence of it, Felicity felt half mad with longing. She missed her husband. She yearned to be reunited with him, for their small family to be safe and together under the same roof again. She needed it, more than she could have ever put into words. For now though? Hearing through Helena that Oliver and William were safe had to be enough.

If Felicity had needed confirmation of just how in over her head she was, she’d gotten it in the events of the last twenty four hours. One thing was growing increasingly apparent though: she could not stay here. Regardless of whether or not she was showing enough to be found out, the situation had grown more dire and the peril? Far too great. 

But escaping from prison still carried all the same problems it had before. Which was why Felicity knew she needed to figure out a better plan. And _fast._ She was running out of time.They all were.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Oliver and Felicity are both pretty pathetic this chapter so sorry in advance. Next week's update (the penultimate chapter, ah!) is going to be delayed by a day and will post on Thursday. I apologize for this, but due to some work scheduling changes, posting on Wednesday just won't be feasible for me. The good news though? Chapter 11 leaves off on a little bit of a cliffhanger and this means that you'll get the final chapter with one day less of waiting! :) 
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading, for leaving such kind comments, kudos, for retweeting on Twitter, etc. Your support and kindness truly cannot be overestimated. You all are amazing and I thank you for being so kind. 
> 
> So... onward to the end!

Two weeks after the beating that Diaz had ordered on her, Felicity was still not fully recovered from her injuries. Though the swelling over her eye had gone down and was left only with faint yellow bruises over the area, her forehead wound was still angry, though the stitches had come out a week ago. Her lip’s swelling had similarly gone down but the split was still visible, though it looked worlds better. All told, she was night and day improved from the day she’d sustained her injuries but she would have liked to be fully healed before she consented to see Oliver. 

The knowledge that Diaz _wanted_ Oliver to see her broken and battered gave her pause. And while Oliver was a much different man than the rogue vigilante she’d first encountered all those years ago, she knew all too well what he was capable of when moved to passion. And seeing her injured? There was no telling what form his rage might take but she was keenly aware homicidal rage was well within his repertoire - hardly what he needed to be focusing on before his trial. 

So, under the pretense of believing a visit before the trial would be a trap, Felicity had insisted that Oliver and William not come to visitation until after Oliver had been declared not guilty. 

Naturally, Oliver had fought this, reminding her that there was no guarantee he would receive a ‘not guilty’ verdict. But Felicity had stuck to her guns and reminded him that if he was deemed ‘guilty’, they were _both_ going to be staging jail breaks, so they’d see each other soon enough anyway. 

He’d been displeased about her choice. But he’d listened to her rationale, much to her surprise. Felicity wasn’t sure if it was his concern for her and the baby, or something else, but whatever the case, the visitation he’d scheduled for himself and William to see her prior to the trial went unattended and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that Oliver would not see her injuries and fly off the handle right before the trial that would decide his fate.

Too much hung in the balance for her to let herself be used by the likes of Diaz. Felicity was no one’s pawn - and certainly not Diaz’s. 

The downside to Oliver and William not visiting, however, was that Felicity’s sense of being cut off from her family only intensified. In this, the beginning of her second trimester of pregnancy, she was finally starting to stabilize; her morning sickness had calmed down, thanks in no small part to Helena and Carrie’s diligent efforts to keep her supplied with saltines from the prison commissary. The little crackers helped considerably, as did the ginger that Doctor Schwartz had smuggled in and supplied her with. 

This should have been the time when Felicity could be glorying in her pregnancy with those she loved - taking weekly pictures of her baby bump’s growth, following along on a pregnancy app to watch the little peanut’s progression from lima bean to kiwi fruit to grapefruit and so on. She should have been on the phone with her mother, asking questions about when she’d been pregnant with Felicity and commiserating over swollen ankles and morning sickness and sore breasts. 

And instead she couldn’t even utter a word about her baby outside of the safety of her cell with a signal jammer engaged to keep her enemies from overhearing. She had to tiptoe and creep and hide and mislead in order to keep her unborn child safe. There could be no glorying in the bump, no mention of the hopes and dreams that were blossoming within her alongside the child in her womb. 

She should have been readying the nursery alongside Oliver and bickering good naturedly over what colors to paint the walls and what themes to choose for decor. She should have been researching Lamaze classes and doctors and most efficient routes to the hospital from their highrise. 

They should have been a family. Together. Happy. And _safe._

And instead they were a family torn apart. 

God, she missed her boys.

\-----

Oliver felt as though he was going mad. The chaos surrounding his impeachment and his trial for his ‘alleged vigilantism’ had consumed far more of his life than he cared to consider. Every moment wasted on his own defense was a moment not spent proving Felicity’s innocence. In the end, Oliver had simply turned to Felicity for answers. Albeit, the Felicity of the past.

Taking a page out of his wife’s instruction book, he’d done his level best not to try and outfox Diaz, but to let Diaz think he’d outfoxed Oliver. Felicity had told him to do so with Slade and it had worked then - Oliver saw no reason why it shouldn’t work on Diaz now. And to his tremendous surprise and relief? It...actually _had_ worked. Not that he should have been surprised - Felicity always gave good advice. Even if the advice was several years (and quite a few bad guys) old. It still held up. 

And a good thing too - Oliver wasn’t in any position to go to jail for being the Green Arrow _now._

So instead of trying to beat Diaz at his own corrupt game, Oliver simply changed the game entirely. Christopher Chance had been up for double duty, posing first as Tommy. It was the furthest thing from playing fair - and part of Oliver hated that he’d had to resort to such drastic measures as cheating to get himself acquitted. But he absolutely could _not_ go to prison and leave William alone and Felicity and their unborn child hanging by a thread in prison. 

Absolutely not. Oliver could not, would not abandon his family like that. So he’d created a set of circumstances that not even his worst critic could believe would yield a guilty verdict. Diaz could buy the jury all he wanted - but no sane person could see Tommy Merlyn show up in the Green Arrow suit, assume credit for being the Green Arrow, and then find Oliver guilty of the same thing. 

A guilty verdict in the face of all that? Why, a judge would be well within their rights to overthrow such a ludicrous finding. But of course, a judge bought and paid for by Diaz would do no such thing. So Oliver and Chance had devised a plan for him to pose as the judge at the time of the verdict being read.

The guilty verdict, while jarring, hadn’t been a shock, but it had made Oliver feel a thrill of terror. And for a moment, he knew precisely how Felicity had felt, hearing those words echo dully through the courtroom. Unlike Felicity though? Oliver knew it was the verdict he deserved - he had no delusions about his own guilt. 

But today, justice had to look a little different. 

And so, hearing Chance overthrow the ruling while posing as the judge was a feeling Oliver could scarcely explain. He felt almost exultant to be walking away a free man - but that freedom and that joy were tempered by the knowledge that his wife was decidedly _not_ free despite being assuredly innocent. With a pang, Oliver realized the very same stunt he and Chance had just pulled could have gotten Felicity safely let off on all her charges. But of course, they hadn’t known back then - they’d had no clue the scale of the corruption they were up against. If they’d had the foggiest inkling, Oliver would have resorted to most any measure to see Felicity safe. 

Hindsight was 20/20 though. And Oliver hadn’t been about to make the same mistake twice. Felicity’s best hope of getting released from prison on the up and up was if he remained a free man to hunt down proof of her innocence. So a free man, he was bound and determined to stay. For the sake of his family, he had to. 

Returning home after the verdict should have felt more joyous than it did but all that Oliver could think of was Felicity. Rotting away in that damnable prison while she desperately tried to hide from the world the fact that she was _pregnant_ with their child. 

As always, the simple act of thinking about his unborn child was enough to make Oliver’s muscles contract and his jaw grow tight. He should have been at Felicity’s side every step of the way through this pregnancy. He should have been making her homemade, nutrient dense meals, he should have been at every doctor’s appointment and every ultrasound holding her hand, rather than having to be secretly video-conferenced in. He should have been watching her stomach grow, week after week, delighting in the knowledge that every centimeter of her stomach’s growth heralded further development of their baby, instead of fearing that each gained pound would be the one to clue the prison guards - and Diaz - in on the pregnancy. 

This should have been a joyous time instead of an unendingly stressful and horrifying one. He should have been enjoying quiet dreams of their growing family, not nightmares of losing his wife and unborn child in violence and bloodshed.

So at best, Oliver’s joy at being let off on the charges against him was muted. And even that subdued joy was short-lived when, a week later, Diaz began to go after the members of Team Arrow - and their loved ones. 

It had started with a missed call from Anatoly and a couple of warning texts. Then masked gunmen had stormed the high-rise when Oliver and William were having dinner and opened fire. Oliver had been forced to face the very real fear of having his son gunned down in front of him. Suffice it to say, he’d been properly motivated to overpower his attackers in record time. He’d then sent out a 911 to all members of the team, warning them of the full scale assault. 

John and Lyla had been at the hospital. Curtis? With his boyfriend. Rene had been at home with Zoe. And Dinah had been prowling the streets. All of them had been attacked and all except for Curtis’ boyfriend had escaped mercifully unscathed. 

But in those frantic moments, there was one person who Oliver knew was _not_ safe. And Oliver was beside himself with worry over her but he could no sooner go to Felicity than he could leave William alone at a time like this. 

So he was forced to do the only thing left to him in this situation; he called Doctor Schwartz, giving her a cursory explanation of what had happened before he asked her to check on Felicity and to fill in Helena and Carrie. He went back and forth on whether or not he should tell Felicity what had happened. The last thing he wanted was to add further stress to her already stressful life in prison. But the thought of leaving her in the dark when it was her safety and the safety of their child on the line? That, he could not do. 

So he’d told them to let her know of the attack against her friends and family, and to warn her to watch her back even more than she already did. 

What he didn’t tell them to pass along to her was how being apart from her was eating him alive. He said nothing of how his every moment, waking or sleeping, was haunted with the knowledge that he had failed her - failed to keep her out of prison and failed to keep her safe within it. Sure, she had Helena and Carrie, but they were just two women - two _prisoners_ \- up against the world. Not exactly an infallible backup brigade, if he were being honest. 

These were things he could say to no one but Felicity. But then again… the doctor had proved a willing messenger. She’d sent Oliver the messages Felicity had written for him anytime she went to medical to see Doctor Schwartz. If she’d been willing to act as a courier then, he saw no reason why she should have a problem doing the same thing now. 

And so, in the depths of his despair, Oliver penned an email to the doctor, asking her to let Felicity read the attached document. And in that document, Oliver poured out his heart and soul as best as he could. He wasn’t a man of many words but for his wife? He was a man of words in multitudes. 

> _Felicity -_
> 
> _Tonight, I watched masked gunmen, sent by Diaz, try to gun down our son. I know, that’s not the sort of opening line you were probably expecting. But I can’t get it out of my mind. Because the terror I felt then? It was worse than the five years I was away, combined. All I could think of was protecting him by disarming each and every one of the men who meant to do him harm. And I did. And William is safe._
> 
> _But there’s no masked gunmen for me to disarm for you, Felicity. Your bad guys here on the outside are invisible and I don’t know where to find them. And your bad guys in the prison there with you? They’re somewhere I can’t reach. I hate this. I hate feeling so powerless to help you. I love you so much. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there, I should be there. It should be me in prison - not you. Not our baby._
> 
> _You said once that our love gave your life meaning and purpose. Felicity… the only purpose that I have here on this Earth is to keep you and William and the baby safe. To keep our family safe. So, I am begging you, please let me do that. I can ask John to use his ARGUS contacts to help me set us up with new identities. I need you protected. I need our family protected. Safe._
> 
> _After the gunmen, when we realized what Diaz was doing, attacking our loved ones? All I could think about was protecting you. I tried before and I couldn’t do it - that’s why I called Helena and Carrie and Doctor Schwartz to help. Do you know what it feels like not being able to protect your family? Because I have lived with that feeling every second since you stepped in there, Felicity. Don’t… Don’t tempt that. Please. Please. I’m begging you to let me get you out. I love you, Felicity. And I cannot lose you - either of you. For my sake. For William’s sake. For the baby’s sake. Please._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Oliver._

It was wrong in a million ways but it was honest and he hit ‘send’ before he could second guess the wisdom of dumping his emotional burden on his already overtaxed wife. He needed to get her out of there. At once. No more waiting around. Even with all of Noah and Alena’s best hacking skills at his disposal, he was making no headway on proving her innocence - Cooper was a well protected ghost in Diaz’s pocket. And if Felicity stayed much longer, they’d discover her pregnancy.

God help him, Oliver didn’t think he could survive anything happening to either of them. 

It was not long after Oliver had sent his message to Doctor Schwartz for her to pass on to Felicity that he received an incoming call from an unknown number. Oliver had stared at the phone for a good long while, contemplating how best to respond to it. In retrospect, Oliver wondered if, even then, he’d known who would be on the other end of the line. 

“Hello.” 

“Well, well, well. Looks like I should have sent more men to deliver my message to you,” Diaz drawled and Oliver’s hands instinctively bunched into fists as the voice of the lunatic responsible for his family’s current hardship crackled across the line. 

“A real man would have delivered the message himself,” Oliver shot back hotly, realizing too little too late that he should bite his tongue. Every word he said could be held against Felicity. And Oliver could not let her suffer for more of his failings than she already had. 

“Someone sure has a lot of spit and vinegar for a man whose wife is in a _very_ precarious set of circumstances at the moment,” Diaz warned and for a moment, Oliver panicked that Ricardo knew about the pregnancy. But he was overreacting; this was just more of the same of Diaz’s particular brand of narcissistic flaunting of his own authority and power. The man positively _required_ propping up his own ego. 

What a dick. 

“If you so much as lay a _finger_ on her, I swear to God,” Oliver growled, his voice dropping menacingly. In answer, Diaz chortled on the other side of the line, hardly seeming fazed by Oliver’s words. 

“You’ll do what, huh? You’re not the mayor, anymore. You’re not the Green Arrow. So what does that leave you? You’re not a threat, Oliver. You’re _nothing,”_ Diaz taunted and Oliver chewed at the inside of his cheek in a rage. 

Diaz thought he was nothing? He’d show this man precisely what ‘nothing’ was capable of then, damn him. 

“If I’m ‘nothing’ then stay the hell away from my wife,” Oliver’s voice was all sharp edges and fiery heat. He would have reached through the phone to beat the other man if it were possible to do so. He wanted so badly to smash the fool’s face in, to return even a fraction of the suffering he had inflicted on Felicity. 

Diaz was silent on the other end of the line for a spell and when he spoke, Oliver felt terror scream through his veins. 

“You haven’t talked with her lately, have you? Been to see her? ...Maybe you should do that. Check and see how she’s healing. Rough place, prison.”

The soft _CLICK_ that signaled the end of the call did little to bring Oliver back to the present, his mind too consumed replaying the last two sentences of his conversation with Diaz. 

_Check and see how she’s_ **_healing_** _. Rough place, prison._

Oh god. “Felicity,” Oliver stumbled and braced himself against a wall as his own legs buckled at the insinuation that Felicity was not well. He was about to dial up Doctor Schwartz and demand a full accounting of what the _fuck_ had happened to Felicity and why the _hell_ no one had told him when his phone _PING_ -ed with the notification to signal he’d received a new email. 

Looking at his phone, his stomach swooped as he saw the email was from none other than Doctor Schwartz. Opening it frantically, Oliver saw the brief but firm message that could only be from a woman with the steely resolve of his wife. 

> _Oliver -_
> 
> _I’m glad you’re all safe. And I’m so sorry but... No. We have to stay the course._
> 
> _I love you._

> \- F

Oliver had always loved and admired Felicity’s strength, had always marveled at it. But in that moment, he could do nothing but curse it. Her renewed refusal to let him break her out had him spiraling from the moment his eyes read that simple, two letter word. 

No. 

How the fuck was she still saying no? How could she believe they stood any chance of beating Diaz when the man had just proven, yet again, that he was a monster capable of anything? 

Oliver had a thousand questions and no answers. But before he could dwell on that sad state of affairs, a multitude of dominoes began to fall in those short moments; Oliver got a call from Curtis saying that the bunker that Oliver and the team had been working out of had been compromised. According to what Curtis had viewed on the security cameras? Diaz’s men had stormed the place and smashed everything they could get their hands on into smithereens. And only then, with everything broken beyond all recognition, had they doused the place in gasoline and lit it up like a cheap Fourth of July bonfire. 

But Oliver didn’t give a damn about the bunker - bunkers and equipment could be replaced. Loved ones couldn’t. And it was that reminder that had Oliver dialing up Lyla first and Raisa second. If he was this much of a wreck worrying about his loved ones, the others must be too. A quick conversation with Lyla yielded some workable solutions. Namely? An ARGUS safe house. Or, that had been Oliver’s hope. Instead, Lyla had done him one better - a NORAD bunker in the middle of Colorado. Diaz could literally annihilate Earth as they knew it, but their loved ones would still be safe. Oliver took a small measure of comfort in that thought but even knowing the others were safe, he knew that the better part of his heart was still standing directly in harm’s way.

And there was a very real possibility he’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull. And if it charged? Felicity would be the one to bear the brunt of its horns. And that was something Oliver could not, would not stand for. If she refused to leave, then she was going to have to give him a damn good reason why. Pulling up his email again, Oliver fired off a quick note to Doctor Schwartz, hoping she’d be able to pass it to Felicity promptly. 

> _Visitation. Tomorrow. No excuses, Felicity. We’re figuring this out. I won’t leave until we have a plan. I love you, but you cannot stay there. We both know I’m right._
> 
> _Please. Don’t fight me on this._

He couldn’t say he was surprised when the response to his message was swift and short. 

> _Then come up with a better plan than breaking me out and I won’t fight you. Because you know I’m right too - a life on the run and in hiding would be hell for our children._
> 
> _I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you._

\-----

Doctor Schwartz had been the first to tell Felicity the good news when it came down: Oliver was found guilty by the jury, only for the judge to overrule them and declare him a free man. It was something Felicity hadn’t even known was possible, but in true Oliver fashion, he’d apparently had a few aces of his own up his sleeves. 

One of which had apparently been somehow getting Tommy Merlyn to drop from the sky and claim credit for being the Green Arrow. Felicity had her suspicions about how _that_ little feat had been managed, but she kept them to herself. 

But on the heels of the good news regarding Oliver walking away a free man came the disastrous news of Diaz’s attacks against Team Arrow and their loved ones, and a rather fraught email exchange between herself and Oliver that had culminated in him demanding that they meet at visitation to discuss a course of action.

So it was that Oliver came to sit before her in the visitation booth, a free man. Well, technically _William_ sat before her while Oliver stood next to him, watching protectively over their son and staring hungrily at her face, tracing the lines of her injuries with worried, haunted eyes. 

“Your arm is broken?!” 

“Oh. Well… yes. Yes it is,” Felicity answered William’s worry plagued question, forcing herself to meet his fraught gaze and return it with an untroubled one of her own. 

“How did you break it?!”

“Not important,” Felicity dismissed with a wave and a roll of her shoulders, not wanting to worry her son but also not wanting to lie to him. “Tell me about you! I hear you’re going to Nationals for your cloned cabbage project?” Felicity inquired enthusiastically, only for William to clam up, trouble brewing in his dark brown eyes. 

“Felicity, don’t insult my intelligence,” William balked at her attempts to guide the conversation, crossing an arm in front of himself as he held the phone in his other hand. “I’m smart enough - and old enough - to know that something happened to you. Tell me. No lies, no secrets. Those are the rules,” he reminded her accusingly and Felicity exhaled sharply through her nose, hating this already.

“Some people held me down and broke my arm. Then they hit my face because they wanted to make our family react and do something stupid,” Felicity finally answered him bluntly, watching how William’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat but his eyes remained all steely resolve.

“Subterfuge,” he breathed into the phone and Felicity had to hold back a laugh; it sounded like a word he would have heard in one of his video games but she knew her son was smart enough to actually know the real meaning of it. And he was right. 

“It was a ruse. And this family doesn’t rise to take bait like that. Do we?” Felicity inquired, lifting her eyes to stare pointedly at her husband, the message clear.

“No,” William answered quietly and Felicity nodded, placing her hand on the glass.

“That’s right. And a good thing we didn’t. Because now your dad is a free man,” Felicity reminded her son brightly, delighting in the relief in his smile as he looked up at Oliver. 

“Yeah,” William breathed softly. “That means it’s your turn next, right Felicity?” 

“I really hope so, bud.” 

For a solid fifteen minutes, William and Felicity chatted; William filled her in on his science project, the class schedule he’d selected for the coming fall, and the announcement that he had made the honor roll at school. He regaled her with stories of attempting to teach Oliver to play Minecraft, Oliver’s returned attempts to try and teach William to bake, and Raisa teaching him Russian when he finished his homework. 

They were small nuggets of normalcy, tiny pearls of the life she loved and longed to return to and she cherished each and every story, no matter how generalized or specific. When William eventually said a reluctant goodbye and stirred to return to the waiting room where Diggle would keep an eye on him, Felicity watched him go with a heavy heart, all too aware how precious each moment with her son was. Especially now. 

Felicity was silent as Oliver took the seat William had vacated, his hand on the phone holding it away from his ear for a full minute as he attempted to settle. Felicity swallowed as she studied him, able to read him well enough by now to know he was _furious_. When he finally held the receiver to his ear, his grip on it was white knuckled and she knew without looking at them that his eyes must be cold infernos.

“Felicity-”

Never had he spoken her name with such coldness and it shot through her, wounded her, on a deep, innermost level. 

“Oliver, there was no point in worrying you-”

“There was _every_ point!” 

“We are fine,” she reassured him, careful to glance around and keep her voice low as she spoke aloud the word ‘we’, the familiar nervous flutter rising in her stomach as she mentioned the baby. 

‘And were you ‘fine’ after ‘some people’ _held you down and broke your arm?!_ ” Oliver hissed, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging with the weight of his wrath. “You should have told me!”

“He wanted to goad you into doing something stupid and I was _not_ going to let any of us be his pawn!” Felicity countered hotly, leaning forward with a swift motion that jarred her arm painfully. She only narrowly managed to cover the wince of pain the action nearly elicited. 

But Oliver’s fury had evaporated; as she looked at him, it was as if all traces of that brutal, icy fury had disappeared into the ether. As she studied her husband, she knew that it hadn’t disappeared - it had merely transmuted from wroth to horror. 

“... _’He’_ who, Felicity?” 

For a split second she found herself gaping like a fish and then she pressed her lips together, kicking herself for walking into such a _stupid_ mistake. But walk into it, she had, and there was no ‘out’ option.

“...Diaz,” she answered him softly, watching as tension leapt into his posture at the name of the man that had put them squarely in his crosshairs. 

“Are you telling me _Diaz_ did this to you?!” Oliver breathed and her eyes fluttered shut, her nostrils flaring as she steadied herself. 

“I’m telling you… he showed up at visitation. And he ordered the guards to do this to me,” Felicity responded bleakly, watching as Oliver’s expression morphed into shock before it became practically inscrutable and blank as he reached into his pocket and rifled around. 

Shock, she could handle. Anger? Certainly. But the cold mask of neutrality he wore now? She didn’t know how to deal with _that._

“What are you doing, Oliver?” 

“I’m telling John to prepare the team for your extraction,” Oliver answered her matter of factly and Felicity had to stifle a growl. 

“Remember the second part of my story? About how Diaz was trying to goad us into doing something stupid? ...This is precisely the kind of ‘stupid’ I was worried about,” Felicity accused angrily, only for Oliver to slam his cell phone down on the surface of the booth’s table top with more force than was strictly necessary. 

“I am not going to stand by idly while my wife,” he paused, his eyes dropping to her obscured midsection, the unspoken ‘ _and baby’_ painfully clear, “is beaten by the very people who are supposed to be _keeping her safe!”_

“I’m not suggesting we stand by idly, but we are not going to do something rash and stupid now. We’ve come this far, Oliver - we can’t make it all for nothing by blowing things in the eleventh hour!” Felicity retorted in a low voice, her brows sloping into a frown. She so badly wanted to grab him by the ear and make him listen to her but that was not an option at the moment. “I want to give our children a normal life. We can’t do that if we break me out and go on the run.” 

Oliver went stock still then and Felicity saw something flicker across his features that set her on edge. She couldn’t have said why; there hadn’t been malice or danger or anything particularly alarming on his features in that split second lapse. But from the moment he’d registered whatever thought had crossed his mind? He couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. 

“Fine. We won’t break you out,” he allowed far too easily and Felicity found herself narrowing her eyes at him, suspicion reaching tiny tendrils through her heart and mind. 

“Oliver.” 

Still, he refused to meet her eyes, though he lifted his gaze and seemed to stare at a fixed point on her forehead - as if she was going to let _that_ slide. 

“Oliver Jonas Queen look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not about to do something monumentally stupid,” Felicity growled, sensing somehow that was precisely what he had brewing in his head. 

“If it guarantees your safety, it’s not ‘monumentally stupid’,” Oliver shot back noncommittally and Felicity exhaled sharply. 

“Explain yourself. Now.” 

“I’m going to cut a deal with Watson and the FBI.” Blunt honesty, not something she’d expected but she appreciated it nonetheless, even if it left her breathless - and not the good kind. 

“This is good, yes. Let’s get all the _colossally bad_ ideas out there so we can sweep them into the trash before we start brainstorming _actual_ solutions to the problem at hand!” Felicity grumbled angrily and she could see that Oliver’s anger had spiked to match her own.

“Felicity, I will do _whatever it takes_ to protect you - both of you,” his voice softened at the end, his throat bobbing as he swallowed and stole another peek at her stomach and she could _tell_ how badly he wanted to lay his hand over the carefully concealed swell of her baby bump. Without him having said anything about it, Felicity knew Oliver hungered to feel connected and close to their baby, that he wanted desperately to protect it - and her - with all that he had in him. And this, in his mind, was his way of doing that. 

Self sacrifice was _always_ his solution. But it was never hers. Nothing was worth losing him. 

“You know what Watson will want in exchange for an ask that big, Oliver. She will want the Green Arrow. She’ll want _you_. In prison. Forever,” Felicity pointed out and he tucked his chin towards his chest, silent as he thought on it before he nodded slowly. 

“I know.” 

“I’m not willing to cut that deal.” 

“But I am.” There was no challenge or anger when he looked at her this time; instead, there was mild acquiescence tinged with sorrow as he looked back at her. It was not lost on her that even as he said the words, his thumb and forefinger were rubbing at the simple wedding band on his left hand.

“That’s not what those vows were supposed to mean, Oliver,” Felicity answered back hoarsely and he offered her a wan smile, shaking his head. 

“Felicity, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You have to know that by now.” 

“I do know that. And that terrifies me every day. Because you seem to think that offering yourself as a sacrificial lamb is something that is within my capacity to handle. Newsflash, Oliver: it’s not. I cannot lose you. And neither can our children.”

“We could have visitation time, just like this. You’d still have me-”

“-don’t patronize me. We both know that’s not the same.” 

They fell silent, facing off with each other and once more, Felicity fell to the only sense of connection she seemed capable of offering, placing her hand on the glass and watching as Oliver followed suit. 

“You told me once that… if it was me asking, you’d do it,” Felicity stated quietly, her eyes closing as she took a slow breath, recalling with a twist of her stomach those tense moments before he’d gone off to fight Ra’s al Ghul - and nearly died. She hadn’t asked him to change course then, even though it had killed her not to. 

“This is me asking. Don’t do this, Oliver. Please.” 

The lone tear that traced down his face spoke volumes of the anguish he was in as he finally lifted his face to hers. In all the years and through all the hardships she had seen him endure, never had Felicity seen him looking as positively devastated as he did in that moment. 

“So then what, Felicity? I leave you in here? We both know you aren’t safe. If the guards are on Diaz’s payroll and willing to hurt you, they’ll have no problem turning a blind eye on an inmate with a knife or god knows what else,” he pointed out, his voice cracking on the words. Felicity bowed her head, hating herself for putting him through this even if she believed that it was the right call to make. 

“We just… we have to find another way, Oliver.” 

“What way, Felicity? I have tried and I have failed. I don’t know what other options we have left.” 

Felicity’s heart broke as she considered their predicament. Oliver was right; they’d tried and they’d failed. So what choice did they have? Which way could they go when they were backed into a corner? She didn’t have any easy answers. And neither did Oliver. That was the problem. Everywhere she looked, all Felicity could see was that they were between a rock and a hard place, outmatched and out of time.

And so, as Felicity made her way back to her cell a short while later, it was with a heavy heart and a heavier mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a heads up, this is the chapter for which this story gets its 'violence' tag so if that's not your thing... you may want to skip everything after a certain green leather wearing hero shows up...
> 
> To all you brave souls who've made it this far: thank you for reading! We're so close to the end now. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The cold water sluiced over her body, washing away the sweat and grime that had accumulated on her over the last few days of prison living. Felicity had begun to feel antsy about showering; though Helena and Carrie flanked her and blocked her at every turn, the baby bump was impossible to miss when she was unclothed. So she’d begun to skip showers, sometimes for several days in a row. Was it her best personal hygiene choice? No. And Carrie and Helena were quick to remind her of this when she went three or more days without showering. Just this morning, Carrie had forced the issue by referring to Felicity as a ‘smelly little duck’ and Helena had echoed the sentiment.

They might protect her physically, but the two women had no obligation to protect her feelings, apparently. So to the showers they had gone, over her vociferous objections. Felicity couldn’t deny the amount of stress and strain she felt every time she shed her clothes to shower. Even when she’d had full use of both her arms, the few minutes she allotted herself for showering felt like an eternity to be so vulnerable. And now, with one arm broken and out of commission? She was even slower at showering than she’d been before, leaving her feeling all the more vulnerable and exposed. And no small wonder why: she was sixteen weeks along now. 

Four months. Well into the second trimester of her pregnancy and barreling towards the point beyond which, hiding her pregnancy would be impossible. It was only through a combination of sheer dumb luck, baggy prison clothes, and a toned figure that she’d managed to evade notice this long.

She was running on borrowed time. Already, things were beginning to get dicey. On her first night after sentencing, Felicity had told Oliver that at best, they had two to three months. That time had come and gone and still, despite Oliver and the team’s best efforts, no progress had been made in clearing her name. 

Which meant it was time to get out, regardless of what it meant for her record. No matter how much it hurt her to admit it: she could not stay here indefinitely, waiting to see justice done. Maybe someday they would find the evidence they needed to have her record cleared. But that day had not yet come. And Felicity could no longer justify the delay. 

If the choice was between incurring (additional) criminal charges against herself, or protecting her child? She would choose her child, every time. In truth, there was no choice to make. 

As she quickly lathered the soap across her skin, Felicity tried to imagine that she was in their shower at home, covering herself in the rose and lily scented soap she liked so much, with the honey and violets conditioner that always made her hair practically glow and go all soft. She was so wrapped up in the mental picture, she could almost _smell_ the very products she was thinking of.

At least getting out would mean she could enjoy a shower without fear of being knifed in the back or discovered by the guards. She’d also be able to enjoy her husband again, which was a very tempting thought indeed…

A sharp whistle cut through the muddied haze of Felicity’s thoughts, making Felicity’s heart stutter and her eyes widen as she glanced quickly to Helena. The brunette had been standing guard outside the showers while Carrie and Felicity bathed, Carrie acting as Felicity’s human shield. 

“Incoming,” Helena muttered in an undertone, prompting Felicity to duck out of the spray and grab for the towel that Helena tossed at her. Scrambling, Felicity pulled on her orange uniform top and yanked it to cover her baby bump just as three COs appeared - two of them the very same men who had beaten Felicity at Diaz’s order. Once assured Felicity and Carrie were aware of the threat, Helena wasted no time in heading them off. 

“What have we peons done to deserve a visit from the mighty COs?” Helena scoffed and without delay, the guard in the lead swung out with his nightstick. It was only Helena’s quick reflexes that allowed her to block it with her forearm, a scowl flitting across her face, her lips pulling into a dissatisfied pout. She gave no sign of having been hurt, though Felicity knew her arm must be stinging something fierce.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Helena dogged the trio’s steps, buying precious seconds as Felicity pulled on the remainder of her uniform while Carrie did likewise beside her. 

“Unless you want to try and hurl snide comments without teeth, I suggest you back off, Bertinelli,” one of the COs ground out at her and Helena bristled, none too pleased at the threat. 

“Maybe you should rethink that statement; are you familiar with my folder? I’m not the inmate you want to fuck with-”

_WHACK._

The blow came from the CO in the rear, catching Helena full in the side of the face as the man’s fist connected with her left ear. The brunette staggered but didn’t go down, able to catch herself against the shower wall. Felicity lurched towards her, only to be drawn up short by Helena flinging a hand out in her direction, stalling her. 

“Look at the balls on you; hitting a girl when she’s not even looking,” Helena growled, prompting the trio of men to turn towards her, all with similarly nasty expressions. Drawing herself back up to her full height, Helena glared at the trio of men, defiant in the extreme. As the one that had punched her began to make a move towards her though, the ringleader of the group stopped him.

“We’re not here for her.” 

As one, the guards swung around so that they faced Felicity and she did her best to hold herself in such a way that her uniform never settled over the growing swell between her hips. It had become almost second nature to her, the product of constant danger that had required constant vigilance for _months_. 

“Inmate 11900, step forward.” 

“Aww come on fellas, you telling me you wanna play with the boring little blonde and not me?” Carrie pouted as she nonchalantly sauntered forward, casually placing herself between Felicity and the guards. 

They moved fast; Felicity was no fighter but Carrie was one and even _she_ wasn’t able to move fast enough. In the blink of an eye, the lead guard had a gun in his hand and he leveled it at Carrie at the same time as the sickening _‘click’_ of the safety signaled that he wasn’t messing around.

“Step. Aside,” he muttered and Felicity watched as Carrie’s hands balled into resolute, rebellious little fists. Felicity knew, without question, that Helena and Carrie would both fight these men. Guns or no guns. Outnumbered or no. They would do it in the name of protecting her and her child and they would get hurt. Or worse.

Felicity snaked a hand forward and touched lightly on Carrie’s shoulder, stilling her before her rage could erupt out. 

“It’s okay, Carrie,” Felicity stepped carefully around the redhead, eyeing the guards cautiously as she did so. “These nice men aren’t going to hurt me. Are you, gentlemen? Of course not. You’re professionals. Men of honor. You would never hurt a defenseless, unarmed woman, would you?” Felicity challenged them, looking each man dead in the eye in turn. When she had stared all three down, she looked back to Carrie and touched her cheek sweetly. “See? Like I said. They’re not going to hurt me. They wouldn’t dream of doing something so _unethical.”_

“Little duck,” Carrie warned in an undertone and Felicity shook her head slightly, unwilling to budge. 

“You’re coming with us, Inmate,” the lead guard growled at Felicity, the gun still in his hand, his gaze once more on Carrie. 

“Do I have another surprise visitor waiting for me in visitation today?” Felicity challenged, taking no small amount of satisfaction in watching the two guards who had beaten her flinch visibly.

“Oh no, you’re going to see the warden today,” the lead guard sneered, tilting his head sharply to his left as a means of directing her. Bowing her head, Felicity moved forward with careful steps, watching as the guards came forward to place her in handcuffs. 

“Is that really necessary?” Helena interjected coldly. 

“She’s a criminal, same as the rest of you,” came the predatory, disgruntled reply. 

“I also have a broken arm that’s in a sling; how do you expect me to put my wrists together so that I can wear the handcuffs?” Felicity inquired quietly, watching as the guard studied her, the cuffs dangling from his fingers undecidedly. 

“I think you’ll manage,” he said at last, stepping forward and clicking the cuffs into place on her good hand roughly, closing them tight around her wrist. Felicity winced but tolerated the roughness, bringing her hand awkwardly to align with her injured arm, which the guard cuffed a little more gently than the other, thankfully. 

Keeping his eyes on Felicity’s duo of defenders, he gestured for her to walk in front of him and Felicity obliged, but turned to look at him over her shoulder. “One of you is going to have to lead the way; I don’t know where I’m going,” she reminded them. 

“Felicity,” Helena murmured again, none too pleased with matters. “This is a bad idea.” 

“We don’t have a choice, Helena. I won’t let you two get shot for me.” 

“Who said we’d be the ones getting shot?” Carrie sneered from behind her and Felicity craned her neck to see the redhead, who shot her an encouraging look. “I’ve taken down bigger and better armed men than these three.” 

“Enough chatting,” the lead guard interrupted, holding his gun and pressing the barrel of it into Felicity’s back, prompting her eyes to turn round as coins. Simultaneously, she heard angry noises hiss out from Helena and Carrie alike and Felicity knew both women were hanging to their control by a thread; it was obvious how desperately they wanted to protect her. It was only her unwillingness for them to put themselves at risk, and her fear of her child being caught in the crosshairs, that was prompting Felicity to leash her self proclaimed guard dogs. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” Felicity pleaded as she was shuttled off, Carrie and Helena coming to stand side by side as they watched their charge flee the safety of their watchful eyes. 

The walk to the Warden’s office felt interminably long but Felicity bore it in stoic silence, or her best approximation of it. Weaving out of the main body of the prison, where the prisoners were free to walk unescorted, Felicity watched with interest as she was paraded back through the offices of the staff before they finally arrived at a door with a cheap name plate on it that said ‘WOLFE’. But as Felicity was led inside, there was no sight of the Warden. Without preamble, her captors uncuffed her bad hand and then, just as quickly, cuffed Felicity’s good hand to the filing cabinet situated near the warden’s desk. None of them said a word and then they began to file out, which made Felicity’s stomach begin to churn uneasily.

“W-Where’s the warden?!”

“He’ll be along to deal with you shortly,” came the flat response before the guards filed out of the office and closed the door firmly behind them. Felicity was left to contemplate her own vulnerability, second guessing herself on the wisdom of having had Helena and Carrie stand down. Minutes ticked by without any sight of the warden and Felicity became conscious of beads of sweat collecting on her brow as her stress level continued to rise. 

So much for reducing her stress levels to keep her blood pressure low. Doctor Schwartz was _not_ going to be happy with her. Her checkup the night before had revealed that her blood pressure had only continued to climb. Today’s events weren’t helping matters, she wagered.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Felicity attempted to make herself comfortable - not an easy task given that she was carrying extra weight these days. Even as she tried to stretch out the tense muscles in her shoulders and lower back though, she heard the sound of footsteps from the hallway outside. As they drew nearer, her heart began to flutter nervously. And when the door opened? Her heart stopped dead and then began to thunder within her chest.

Ricardo Diaz offered her a toothy, crocodile smile as he paused in the doorway, studying her with predatory interest. 

Felicity felt herself shrink back against the filing cabinet, all sense of calm and safety having firmly shattered the moment Diaz had shown his face. As he stepped inside the small room and closed the door behind him, Felicity found herself struggling to breathe, though she did her level best not to betray that fact.

“Well, well, well. Mrs. Queen,” Diaz began in that low, grating voice of his that set her teeth on edge. 

“It’s Smoak-Queen, actually,” Felicity growled through gritted teeth and he paused, holding his hands before him in mock surrender and faux contrition. 

“My apologies, _Mrs. Smoak-Queen,”_ he corrected himself, his smile widening as he took a step deeper into the office, his eyes on her with such weight, it was akin to a physical touch that she shied away from with every bit of the revulsion an actual touch would have incurred. 

“What are you doing here?!” Felicity demanded hotly, trying to channel her rage to use as a mask for the bone deep terror she felt shooting through her veins like ice. 

“I’m glad you asked, Blondie. It’s a good story,” Diaz half coughed, half laughed as he folded his hands behind his back and walked to the opposite side of the office, looking entirely too gleeful. “You’re a smart lady. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I run this show. Everybody in this place? They’re my puppets. And I’m the puppetmaster,” Diaz explained in his gravelly tone, sounding for all the world as though he had gargled on rocks. 

Dare to dream. 

“I received an education in that the last time you visited, yes,” Felicity sneered back,indicating her broken arm with a swift tilt of her chin. His eyes followed the motion, lingering on the sling that kept her injured arm securely against her chest. 

“You learn quick.” 

“Well it’s like you said. I’m a smart lady,” Felicity returned unflinchingly, even as every gut instinct of hers screamed at her to flee. Her fight or flight instincts were raging and Felicity wanted so desperately to take flight - from this man, from this office, from this prison, all of it. 

“Maybe not quite as smart as you seem to think, though,” Diaz retorted and Felicity felt her stomach tangle into knots. What in god’s name was _that_ supposed to mean?! Doing her best to channel some decent approximation of a poker face, Felicity tried to smooth her features and send him a piercing gaze. 

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” she retorted with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. Almost straight away, Diaz began to laugh. 

“I’ll give you credit, you’ve got some stones, Smoak,” Diaz chortled and Felicity couldn’t help but bristle and mutter under her breath, though the words went unnoticed by him.

“Smoak- _Queen.”_

“You may be smart, but you’re book smart, toots. You and your husband and your little team have been five steps behind me this entire time. Hell, I’ll bet you actually thought you could avoid being arrested in the first place just because you were innocent!” 

Her poker face forgotten, her own shock must have registered on her features because Diaz clapped and pointed one finger at her, shaking his head in amusement. 

“You see! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re one of the rule followers. You think that because you play for the good guys, you’re untouchable. But here’s the thing: playing by the rules only gets you so far. Only the people who are willing to do whatever it takes make it to the top,” Diaz explained, moving to stand on the opposite side of the desk from her, spreading his palms on the desktop as he leaned nearer to her. 

Her heart at this point was flinging itself at her ribcage with homicidal intent. 

“See, I’m street smart. Which is why I knew that in a legit trial? You’d get off. Because you _were_ innocent. But Cayden had your digital fingerprints saved and after I killed him and went through his stuff, I couldn’t just ignore a prize that big. They were just _right there,_ begging to be used. So I had your old friend _Cooper_ lay them over the evidence from those crimes. And as easy as that, I had foolproof evidence of your guilt. But just to be safe, I still bought the jurors… and the judge… and the guards…” he trailed off, his leering smile growing ever wider as he slowly pushed back from the desk and came around it so that nothing stood between him and her and Felicity felt her pulse quicken still more, somehow. 

There was nothing between her and Diaz now. Which also meant there was nothing between Diaz and _her child._

“I wasn’t gonna take any chances, see? I wanted you in prison and I did what I needed to in order to get you here,” he explained, slowly closing the gap between them and Felicity felt her palms get sweaty, her skin turning clammy.

“You framed me,” Felicity gasped quietly, barely holding back a sob of anger and hurt and fear. Of course he had; it wasn’t news. But it still brought up a swell of emotions to have him proudly strutting about announcing it in front of her.

“Of course I did. You’re Oliver’s heart. And I wanted to break it. Break Oliver Queen’s heart, you break _him._ His humanity, his empathy, his heroism? It all ties back to you. I knew if I could take you from him, he’d start to lose himself. Buying off some jurors, a judge, and some guards seemed a small price to pay in order to bring down Oliver Queen.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Felicity snarled and Diaz smirked as he stopped when he was practically toe to toe with her. 

“I didn’t get where I’m at by playing nice.” 

“You paid those guards to _beat me,”_ Felicity accused and his sharp laughter rang out, discordant and eerie. 

“I paid them to beat you, yeah. And to let anyone else who wanted to have a go at you have their shot. But you know who my greatest investment was?”

Suddenly, Diaz stepped forward and Felicity let out a sharp, short scream as the man’s meaty palm spread across her stomach, his fingers fanning across her baby bump and cradling it in the most perverse, terrifying touch she’d ever experienced. 

“You can scream all you want, Blondie. No one’s coming to your rescue,” Diaz chuckled, moving his hand to caress the swell between her hips with a demented satisfaction that was evident on his face. “Your friend, the prison doctor? Schwartz. Yeah, that’s her name. Turns out doctor-patient confidentiality? It can be circumvented if you properly motivate the doctor...” 

_No. Nononononononono._

Felicity wanted to vomit. 

“See, when I blackmailed the good Doctor into coming over to my side? I had no idea I was getting a two for the price of one special. But I’m a businessman at heart, so I appreciate a good deal,” Diaz’s lips grazed Felicity’s ear as he leaned in close, his hot breath washing over her skin and making her shiver. Simultaneously, his fingers curled over the growing baby bump she’d worked so diligently to hide from him and the sensory overload left her barely able to breathe. It was as though a thousand pound weight had just crashed down on her chest and there was nothing she could do to remove it. 

“N-No. Sh-She wouldn’t,” Felicity argued weakly and Diaz shook his head, looking so thoroughly amused as Felicity felt all the blood draining out of her face. 

“She would. And she did. Not that I gave her much choice; she’s got some family members she apparently loves and didn’t want to see dismembered. Turning you over was the only play she had. She told me all about your handy dandy little signal jammer.” 

Like salt in the wound, Diaz dug into his pocket and produced the very piece of tech he’d just mentioned and Felicity felt dizzy.

“She also told me all about your doctor visits. Imagine my surprise, finding out you got an _ultrasound_ for your little rugrat there, all right under my nose. Prenatal vitamins too? And her, slipping notes between you and your husband. You two really trusted her, didn’t you?” Diaz sneered and Felicity fought not to feel anything, not wanting to give Diaz the satisfaction of a response.

Had they trusted Doctor Elisa Schwartz?! Absolutely. They’d entrusted her not just with Felicity’s life, but their child’s as well. The very notion that she could have betrayed them? It was a lot. And it definitely stirred up the still fresh pain of Rene’s betrayal of Oliver not so long ago. Trust was earned and trust the likes of which she shared with Oliver and Diggle? It was forged in fire and could not be forced. And nor, apparently, could it be recruited or simply asked for. 

“I’ll give you and your husband some credit - you tried,” Diaz remarked amusedly, his free hand coming up to tap her chin and Felicity wrenched her face away, glaring at him with unbridled hatred. Actual, literal hatred. She hated this man. Really. Truly. Thoroughly. “And for a little while there, you did a pretty decent job. But you forgot one very important detail.” 

“What would that be?” Felicity was vibrating with rage and though she’d shrunk back against the file cabinet as far as she could, Diaz still had his hand over her stomach, the threat in his touch all too real. 

“I’m the Dragon,” he announced haughtily and Felicity felt her brows knit together in a fierce frown. Tense silence grew between the pair for a few long seconds before the sound of distant shouting and what sounded suspiciously like far off gunshots punctured the air. 

Diaz’s expression morphed into a frown and he stepped away from her, crossing the office to throw open the door and peek into the hallway. Though Felicity couldn’t know what he saw, she did hear the unmistakable sound of muted gunfire and clearly, so did Diaz. Without a word, Diaz turned and stormed towards her, grabbing her by the chin and glaring down at her with cruelty flashing in his eyes. 

“What did you do?!”

“Why are you asking me? I thought I was always five steps behind you, Mister Puppet Master?!” Felicity challenged him, her eyes blazing as she went toe to toe with him. He reacted in a flash, the flat of his palm connecting with the side of her face and making her see stars. But it was hardly the first time Felicity had been struck in the last few months and it was hardly the worst hit she’d sustained. Tossing her head to clear her field of vision of the blonde strands of still damp hair that had curtained her face, Felicity lifted her chin to stare him down, unfazed by his crude violence.

 _“What the hell did you do?”_ Gone was the stone cold, cocky confidence of moments prior; now, Diaz suddenly was resembling a cornered animal - fearful and unpredictable.

“I remembered the one, very important little detail that you forgot… I’m the Overwatch,” Felicity returned in clear mockery of his earlier arrogance.

With a snarl, Diaz moved forward, pulling a gun from a holster at his belt that had been hidden by the black suit jacket he was wearing. Waving it before her face in warning, he pressed the barrel to her stomach and Felicity felt her entire world go still, aware of nothing but the nervous flutter in her stomach. 

“You make one wrong move and no doctor will be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again.” 

Felicity swallowed thickly and nodded her understanding, watching in utter stillness as Diaz roughly uncuffed her from the filing cabinet and, grabbing a fistful of her hair, he hauled her towards him like a human shield before he dragged her toward the hallway. Felicity couldn’t help but take some enjoyment out of the very palpable panic rolling off of Diaz in waves; she could nearly taste his frantic energy. 

Good. He deserved to feel some panic and some fear. It was the least of what he deserved, in truth.

Forcing her forward, he directed her towards a room halfway down the hallway, which he promptly threw the door open to and shoved her inside. It proved to be a bigger room than she’d expected - perhaps fourteen by fourteen feet if she were to guess - a far cry bigger than the broom closet she’d been expecting. A uniformed man sat at a desk and before him were numerous screens that flickered with images from throughout the prison. The mess hall, commissary, the yard, and cell blocks alike all appeared on the screens before them in high definition and Felicity couldn’t help but wonder at how on earth such surveillance as this could have missed her pregnancy, even with the aid of signal jammers. 

But the in-depth nature of the surveillance wasn’t even the most remarkable thing about the screens. The most remarkable thing was what she saw on the video feeds at that very moment. The mess hall showed inmates in unabashed chaos, fighting each other and guards. In their midst, Felicity could see the leather clad figures of Rene, Dinah, and Curtis. 

The prison entrance was being overrun by blue jacketed figures she did not recognize save for one; Watson was leading the FBI charging down the prison’s front door. A few screens over, in the cell block, Felicity saw guards engaging with the muscled, helmeted figure of John Diggle. And then, on the second level of the cell block that housed her cell, Felicity caught sight of the familiar, supple green leather and the toned physique that could belong to one man and one man only:

“Oliver,” Felicity breathed under her breath, her eyes shining as she beheld the predatory grace and the expert marksmanship that were synonymous with the man she loved. Perhaps she should have felt some measure of fear or disgust, watching the violence of which he was capable. Even as she watched him on the security screens, he broke the arm of one guard and put an arrow through the ankle of another. But Felicity felt no trace of fear as she beheld the man whose child she carried. She felt only an abundance of love and trust as she watched him fight tooth and nail to get to her, with a precision and savage ferocity unlike anything she’d ever witnessed before. All in the name of protecting her and their unborn child. 

Fear him? She’d never loved him more, or been more impressed by him. 

Diaz, however, did not seem impressed by the security feeds in front of him; instead, he grabbed the guard manning the desk by the shoulder and wrenched him to his feet with unfettered aggression and agitation. 

“Get out there and earn the money I pay you! If he gets her, we’re all finished!” Diaz roared, prompting the young man in question to scramble out of the security room, leaving Felicity once more alone with Diaz. He whirled on her, eyes blazing with vile intent. “You did this.” 

Felicity’s heart galloped within her chest but even as her eyes swept the monitors, looking for Oliver, she could see him moving swiftly and with purpose away from the cell block, flanked by John, Helena, and Carrie. 

He had to be coming for her. The girls would have told him where the guards had taken her. She just had to keep Diaz talking a little while longer. Taking a deep breath, Felicity took a leap of faith, trusting in Oliver to get to her in time. 

“I’ve been in my cell and the showers, then got dragged up here to you. How do you propose I did any of this?” Felicity returned flatly, gesturing around with a sweep of her good hand. And it was entirely stupid. Beyond idiotic. But Felicity almost couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her and spilled freely into the room, filling the silence between her and Diaz as she laughed a little hysterically, borderline uncontrollably. 

“You know, as far as villains go? You’re not a very compelling one,” she kept laughing, wiping tears away from her eyes with her right hand. “You’re not smart like Cayden was; you just rode his coattails to get to this point. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t ever have gotten my digital fingerprints. You never could have gotten me thrown in here - not even Cooper is good enough to fake something of mine that convincingly,” Felicity taunted, watching as the veins in Diaz’s throat and forehead bulged angrily. 

She was toeing a dangerous line. 

“You’re not a strategist like Adrian Chase; he’s the only one who ever came close to breaking Oliver. You think you broke him, putting me in here? You just gave him motivation to be of single minded purpose in taking you down,” Felicity growled, positioning herself on the wall opposite the monitors so that she could see them. As she’d hoped, Diaz pivoted so that he was watching her and not the screens, his face slowly turning red. 

“You don’t have a cult of brainwashed followers powering you like Damien Darhk and Ra’s al Ghul did. You don’t even have a personal grudge against Oliver the way Slade Wilson and Malcolm Merlyn did. You’re just a second rate hack who piggybacked off other people’s work to get where you are. You couldn’t even threaten an injured, defenseless woman without screwing it up. When all this is said and done? That’s the only thing you’ll be remembered as - a screwup and a joke,” Felicity leered at him, watching the fire in his eyes grow wilder. She’d pushed him nearly as far as she dared - any further and there was no telling what he might do.

“Say one more word and I’ll kill you here and now, Blondie,” Diaz whispered, raising the gun in his hand to level it with her face. Felicity fell still and silent then, biting back the angry barbs that rose to the tip of her tongue about a real man not needing a gun. 

No need to push him over the edge; she’d done what she set out to do. She’d pulled his focus from the _real_ danger swarming the prison, and in so doing, she’d bought Oliver the time he needed. Even as she watched (discreetly, so as not to draw Diaz’s attention) she saw her husband spill into the hallway, his strides carrying him toward her. But even as hope seemed to loom, Felicity watched Oliver pass by the security room and with a pang of fear, she remembered.

Helena and Carrie had heard the guard say Felicity was going to the Warden’s office. Oliver was headed there to look for her - not here, in the security room. Grasping at straws, Felicity decided to roll the dice one last time and pray her husband would be able to intervene in time. 

“THANK GOD YOU MONOLOGUE!” Felicity shouted back at Diaz, drawing herself up and attempting to make her diminutive frame look more imposing. “That’s practically ‘Idiot Bad Guy 101’.” Her heart very nearly stopped as she heard the sound of Diaz clicking the safety of the gun off but at the same time, she saw Oliver’s head whip around on the monitor and he turned towards the security room. 

“Be sure to say ‘hello’ to William’s mom,” Diaz whispered with murder in his eyes and Felicity’s blood ran cold.

No. She would not let William lose _another_ loved one. Another _parent._ This was _not_ how she died. She would see William again. And Oliver. And she would see her unborn child brought safely into the world. Diaz would not be the end of her story. He would not destroy her family. She refused.

It was at that moment that many things seemed to happen at once. The door to the security room blew open, splinters of wood flying as the door hung off its hinges. Diaz and Felicity ducked away from the wreckage at the same time. Unaccustomed to the extra weight she now carried and the way her blossoming midsection had altered her center of gravity, Felicity very nearly fell in the process. Seizing on her vulnerability Felicity felt Diaz’s hand knot in her hair, wrenching her head back as he used her as a human shield, placing her squarely between him and Oliver, who Felicity now saw had entered the room and was staring at Diaz with unvarnished loathing. 

“Get. Away. From. My. _Wife!”_

Oliver was as taut as the bowstring upon which he already had an arrow nocked and pointed at Diaz. But even as Felicity studied her husband, noting the rabid gleam in his eyes and the tension in the lines of his body, she felt something cold and solid press against her temple. 

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver,” Diaz clicked his tongue in mock dismay, the hand buried in her hair twisting a little tighter, prompting her to wince in low grade pain. “What if, instead, you drop your bow, or else I’ll blow Felicity’s pretty little genius brain from here to kingdom come, hmm?” Diaz leered, tracing the gun from her temple down lower, until it pressed into her cheek.

Knowing Oliver as well as she did, Felicity could see the subtle coiling of his muscles that signalled he was so tightly wound he was ready to spring. And the look in his eyes spoke volumes about the homicidal state he was in. But the biggest tell to the danger Diaz had spoken into existence by threatening her was in the way Oliver had remained almost deathly quiet, moved to an almost silent rage. And Felicity knew full well - Oliver could be loud when he was mad. But when he didn’t say a word and his eyes were black as a starless night? That was when his anger ascended to new, far more dangerous levels. 

And she knew Diaz was about to learn that lesson the hard way. She felt not a single drop of pity for him.

“Let her go,” Oliver demanded as he lowered the arrow he had been ready to let fly but Diaz just snorted from behind her, his breath ghosting across the nape of her neck. 

“So you can shoot me as soon as she’s in the clear? I don’t think so,” Diaz tossed back, voice a little smug at what he plainly considered to be him besting Oliver.

Fat chance of that. 

Obliging despite what she knew it must be costing him, Oliver threw his bow to the ground, grinding his teeth audibly as he focused on Felicity and not the weapon he had just set aside. 

“It’s over, Diaz. My team and the FBI are rounding up everyone in this prison - it’s only a matter of time before we figure out which of them are on your payroll. You can’t win this. So make things easier on yourself and _let her go!”_ Oliver thundered warningly. In answer, Diaz dropped the gun away from her face and Felicity felt a moment’s reprieve before she suddenly felt the metal prod her stomach and she blanched. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Oliver. I can win this. All I need to do is kill your wife - or your baby. Or maybe both?”

Felicity watched as the last semblance of control and sanity seemed to gutter out on Oliver’s face, replaced by a terrible, gnawing need for vengeance. Her husband did not take kindly to having his family threatened. And Diaz had just threatened his wife and child both.

Checkmate. If Diaz’s game hadn’t been over before it certainly was now. 

“Harm either of them and I will _end you,”_ Oliver stated with clarity and cold blooded focus. By way of answer, Diaz intentionally took the hand holding his gun and ran it through the strands of her hair, bringing his face to nuzzle her neck as he pointedly breathed in the smell of her and exhaled loudly. 

Oliver’s features went flat and Felicity could see the way his lips had pressed into a thin line, and the way the vein in his forehead had begun to bulge alarmingly. Diaz was trying to push every one of his buttons, trying to goad Oliver into doing something stupid. To what end though? There was nowhere for him to go - as Oliver had said, the prison was swarming with members of Team Arrow as well as the feds. Even assuming Diaz managed to escape Oliver’s clutches, he’d surely be caught by one of the others. He was as good as trapped.

But perhaps that was the point - he was a cornered animal and those were always the most dangerous ones. 

“Let her go and I’ll let you walk out of here,” Oliver offered and Felicity knew how it must be killing him to make such an offer. But he did so with almost painful honesty and she knew in that moment, there was nothing Oliver would not have done to have her safely in his arms. 

“I walk out of here first and then I’ll let her go,” Diaz countered, prompting Oliver to snarl his dissatisfaction. Latching onto it, Diaz lifted the barrel of his gun and pressed it into Felicity’s pulse point and then slowly dragged it down along the side of her body until he pressed it into her stomach. “Or you can make a choice, here and now,” Diaz offered and Felicity felt something in her go perfectly still. 

No. Not this. Not again. She knew about the horrible choice Oliver had been forced to make once. She had sought to never place him in such a position again. And yet, somehow, fate was recreating the impossible position he’d been put in on the island with what she imagined must be an even more impossible choice. 

“So what’ll it be, Oliver? Who are you going to save? Your pretty blonde wife? Or the little rugrat she’s cooking up for you?” At the same time as he said the words, Diaz moved the gun, allowing the threat of violence to hover at her stomach and at her temple in turn, the warning obvious.

Choose one or lose them both. 

Felicity could almost see the flicker of Oliver’s haunted memories projected across his features. Once upon a time he’d been made to choose: _Shado or Sara?_ And now he was being asked to decide: _Felicity or their child?_

As she studied his face, Felicity felt his eyes lock onto hers and the urgency she found in them reminded her of another time, almost a lifetime ago. A time when he’d had to communicate so much with only a look; no words, just the sheer emotion carried in his gaze. She’d understood him clearly then. And looking at him now? She felt a shiver of understanding pass through her and she gave the subtlest dip of her head to show she had gotten the message. Turning his focus to Diaz, Oliver’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to his deep, classic ‘Arrow’ rumble. 

“ _I’m_ not going to save either of them.” 

_CRACK._

Her fist connected with Diaz’s face, succeeding in taking him by surprise and weakening his grip on her enough that she was able to drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. At the same time, Oliver dove for his bow and rolled with it in his grasp, nocking an arrow and firing it at Diaz with lightning speed. 

_THWICK._

The arrow missed Diaz’s chest, instead grazing his arm as the bastard dove for cover behind the desk. But instead of springing on him, Oliver reached for Felicity, his eyes alight with worry as he grabbed for her good hand, Without hesitation, he hauled her off the floor and onto unsteady feet. He then curled her against his side and barreled out of the room and into the hall with her tucked against him for protection.

“Are you alright?!” Oliver asked, panic rising in his tone as he voiced the question. “I was afraid you wouldn’t understand what I was getting at before!”

“We’re fine!” Felicity shouted back, just as the deafening _BOOM_ of a gun going off behind them seemed to rend the air apart. Over their heads, wood splinters from the door frame exploded around them with a _BANG_ that left her ears ringing. Felicity squeaked in fear even as Oliver held her snugly while they stumbled down the hall, Oliver looking frantically about. 

Before she could say or do anything to instruct him on which way to go, Felicity felt her blood curdle as she heard the roar of a second, shattering gunshot ring out. Worse yet was the impossibly loud _OOF_ that Oliver let out as the bullet collided with the Kevlar of his suit, knocking the very breath from his lungs. He stumbled for a moment and she felt herself suddenly and unexpectedly bearing some of his weight as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him. Her body strained beneath the solid density of him, staggering and on the verge of collapse but she managed to keep them both upright long enough for him to suck in a ragged breath and collect himself. Oliver forced himself forward after a few shaky steps forcing open the nearest door and gesturing her inside what proved to be an office even smaller than the warden’s, sparsely decorated with a desk, a chair, and a small bookshelf. Felicity had little time to take stock of it though as she spilled inside, Oliver following close behind her. All the while he placed himself between her and the room where they had left Diaz, shielding her with his body even in retreat, even after being shot. 

“Stay behind me, Felicity!” Oliver commanded gruffly, lifting his bow and holding it aloft, ready to use it to fire off a few arrows but equally prepared to bludgeon the next thing to come around the corner with it. 

“Is this _really_ how you’re gonna play it, Oliver? You _really_ think you can keep her safe from me all by yourself?” Diaz chortled and Felicity felt as much as heard Oliver growl in rage and frustration. 

“I didn’t come alone,” Oliver muttered, too quietly for Diaz to hear and Felicity recalled seeing the others with him.

“You had Helena and Carrie with you. And John,” she whispered as she remembered his entourage and Oliver nodded. 

“We ran into some guards. They stayed behind to hold them off while I went ahead to get you,” Oliver explained and Felicity felt that familiar upwelling of love for this man, so willing to risk life and limb for her. She’d never dreamed of finding this kind of unswerving devotion but now that she had it? She couldn’t imagine her life without it - without _him._

“Helena knew they were taking me to the Warden; she’ll lead them this way,” Felicity reasoned and Oliver nodded curtly. 

“I just have to keep you safe until they get here. Then we’re getting you out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” she refused flatly and Oliver tore his eyes from the doorway long enough to look at her with an expression that was his best attempt at brokering no argument. 

“Felicity, even if you _weren’t_ four months pregnant with our child, I still wouldn’t let you stay here. It’s an unstable situation with way too many variables and there’s nothing to gain by you staying,” Oliver rationalized, lifting his hand to cup her cheek, imploring her to understand. “Please, Felicity. Do not tempt fate. Let me get you out of here and I _promise_ I will find you when this is all over.” 

She didn’t get the chance to answer him before Diaz’s voice rang out from the hall, making Felicity seethe silently at Oliver’s side. 

“Come out, come out,” Diaz crooned mockingly. “I didn’t take you for a coward, Queen.” 

“Bastard,” Felicity hissed and she heard Oliver grunt in amusement beside her even as he held a hand out to make certain she didn’t rush out into the hall. As if she’d be _that_ foolish. 

“He’s moving this way,” Oliver’s voice was barely audible as he tried to give her instruction in a rush. “Get behind the desk. Don’t come out unless I tell you to,” Oliver demanded and she had just opened her mouth to object when he turned a steely gaze on her. “I won’t be able to think straight if I’m preoccupied worrying about you and the baby.” 

And he would worry about them both, regardless. If she took cover, he might at least worry less. Closing her mouth before she could give voice to her protests, Felicity obliged, easing herself to the ground with Oliver’s assistance. She’d just tucked herself beneath the simple piece of furniture when Oliver spun back to the doorway and the world went unearthly still. 

The first thing she heard was a _CRUNCH_ that thoroughly shattered the quiet; if she had to guess? It was the sound of Oliver’s bow colliding with fragile facial bones - _Diaz’s_ facial bones, if there was any justice in the world. Immediately on its heels, the concussive force of not one but _four_ gunshots ripped through the air - and a hail of bullets ripped through the desk a few inches from where she had taken shelter, one of them ripping through the baggy legs of her prison uniform. Yelping in pain, Felicity pressed a hand to the spot where the bullet had struck her; already, crimson was staining the orange of her uniform. Pulling back the pant leg though, Felicity could see that the bullet had only grazed her, albeit solidly. 

“FELICITY!” Oliver roared and she knew he was fearing she’d been shot in the very place he’d insisted she seek shelter. And while technically she had, she wasn’t about to tell Oliver that.

“We’re fine!” She cried out, able to hear the grunts and thuds of two bodies engaged in desperate struggle. Ripping off a length of pant leg from her uniform, she tied the scrap of fabric around her bleeding leg wound and prayed that would be enough to tide her over until she could get medical attention. 

Her own wound tended to, Felicity was unable to resist any longer. Warily, she poked her head above the desk, just enough to catch sight of Diaz and Oliver engaged in a brutal struggle and her stomach swooped nervously as she watched the man she loved fight with a barbarism akin to nothing she’d ever seen before.. 

\-----

The sound of the gunshots going off so close to his head left Oliver temporarily deafened, his ears ringing as he attempted to wrestle the gun from Diaz’s hands. He felt the force of the gun going off again, this time accompanied with a lance of pain through his arm as a bullet grazed his bow arm. A quick deflection and a punch helped him avoid another pair of shots that Diaz got off and Oliver dropped his weight to the floor, kicking one leg out in a practiced arc as he attempted to sweep Diaz off his feet. He succeeded in making the man stumble, and Oliver heard a distant roar as Diaz accidentally pulled the trigger again, this bullet narrowly missing Oliver’s head.

He needed to get the gun away from Diaz. By Oliver’s count, the man still had potentially half a dozen bullets in his clip. And Oliver knew all too well how much damage a single bullet could do, let alone six.

Instinctively, his eyes swung back to the desk sheltering Felicity as he rose to his feet again and Oliver felt a jolt of surprise and terror as he caught sight of a familiar pair of blue eyes peeking over the desk at him. The momentary lapse cost him though as Diaz swung a vicious kick at his knee, making Oliver buckle over in agony. 

_Fuck._ Could he even walk? His knee was screaming in pain but incapacitation was not an option. If he fell, Felicity would be a sitting duck that Diaz would be only too happy to gut and pluck. And the baby.

_No._

He couldn’t think about that right now. He had to be a finely tuned fighting machine. Anything less than his total focus would get the woman he loved and their unborn child killed. And that could not be allowed to happen. 

Adrenaline coursing through him, Oliver threw his weight at Diaz, plowing into the man and slamming him into the nearest wall with brute force. One hand pinned Diaz to the wall while the other reached for the quiver on his back, latching onto an arrow. But just as Oliver sought to drive the arrow into Diaz’s skull, the man threw up a hand to block him, causing Oliver’s fatal blow to instead become merely a debilitating one as the arrowhead impaled Diaz’s hand, prompting him to drop the gun as he let out a pained bellow. 

Before Oliver could do anything more though, Diaz headbutted him in the face and Oliver felt the bones in his nose give way and a gush of blood poured down his face, hot and slick. As he stumbled back a half step, Diaz plowed into him, driving him backwards and out of the room. As Oliver fell to the ground in the hallway beyond, he glimpsed Diaz searching around frantically for his gun and Oliver blindly lunged forward, grabbing wildly for Diaz. His hands enclosed on the other man’s ankle and without waiting for a better hold, Oliver yanked as hard as he could, dragging Diaz away from his gun and - more importantly? Away from the desk where Felicity had sought shelter. His injured knee screamed in protest but Oliver ignored it, too jacked up on adrenaline to listen to what was in his body’s best interests.

All that mattered right in this moment was subduing Diaz to protect Felicity and the baby. 

With a fierce kick, Diaz managed to land a blow to Oliver’s chest that loosened his grip on the other man just enough for Diaz to scramble away. He pushed himself back onto his feet and spun to offer Oliver a feral grin. As Oliver watched, the lunatic actually snapped the arrow still impaling his hand and he slid the pieces free from his palm, hissing only faintly as he withdrew the splintered arrow and tossed it aside.

“You can’t beat me, Queen.” 

Oliver said nothing, just stared back hard at the man that had caused Felicity so much pain. Pain that Oliver intended to dole back out tenfold. Karma would come for Ricardo Diaz, even if Oliver had to give her step by step instructions on how to find the bastard. 

“Have you even touched her stomach yet? I have,” Diaz taunted and Oliver’s entire body stiffened at the mental image of Diaz laying his hand on Felicity, of Diaz touching the baby bump that hadn’t even truly existed the last time Oliver had held her in his arms. Diaz had held his hand over the space where Oliver’s unborn child was growing; his hand had been that near to Oliver’s youngest baby, threatening its very existence. 

He’d put arrows in men for far less. 

“Surrender,” Oliver growled the solitary word and Diaz lifted his fists in anticipation, cracking his own neck eagerly. 

“I’m going to kill you. And her. And both of your kids.” 

Oliver’s fingers itched with the burning desire to bury a handful of arrows in Diaz’s chest, but his bow was still on the floor back in the small office, lost in the scuffle earlier. If he was going to put Diaz down, it was going to have to be with his bare hands. 

So be it.

Oliver pitched his body into a foot first dive that caught Diaz off guard, knocking him to the ground as Oliver drew himself up onto his feet and spun back to his opponent. As he attempted to land a powerful kick to Diaz’s stomach though, the man’s hands caught his foot and flung him off balance, sending Oliver crashing to the floor. In an instant, Diaz was on him and the two grappled fiercely. Oliver’s gloved hands struggled to find purchase on Diaz’s face until, at last, Oliver hooked a finger on Diaz’s left eye socket and without hesitation or remorse, he clawed his finger deeper, ignoring Diaz’s scream of pain. An elbow to the chin brought his assault to an end and he stumbled back a step, only to find himself dodging Diaz’s fists as the man came at him swinging, blood dripping from his broken nose, as well as down the left side of his face from the bloody eye socket. Oliver couldn’t be sure, but he thought he might have ruptured Diaz’s eye. 

They clashed again and again, each man landing blows of varying degrees of intensity. Oliver took a stiff uppercut to the cheek that made white spots swim before his vision. In turn, however, he managed to grab Diaz by the shoulders and throw him face first into a wall, caving in the drywall and leaving Diaz with a busted open forehead, adding to the litany of facial wounds currently bleeding profusely on the man’s ugly mug. 

Diaz managed to knock him down and kick him twice so swiftly and powerfully that Oliver knew he had to have at least a few broken ribs. He was hobbling when he got back to his feet, nursing the injured knee and the broken ribs now. In retaliation, Oliver grabbed Diaz by the arm and pulled until he heard the sharp _POP_ that sounded like either a break or a dislocation; judging by the way Diaz held his arm awkwardly to the side, whatever it was? It was painful.

Good. 

But in the turmoil, Diaz had managed to distract him enough that Oliver had made a stupid, foolish, elementary mistake: he’d lost track of his location. As the two men stood sizing each other up, breathing heavily and bleeding all over the hall, Diaz smiled and staggered back across the field of debris that they’d created in their melee. Using his functional arm, he bent and pried a piece of metal pipe free from a hole in the drywall, ignoring the creaks and groans of the pipe until it came free in his hands. But Oliver wasn’t afraid of a pipe. If Diaz wanted to use weapons, he had a quiver of arrows on his back, perfectly dangerous with or without a bow. 

But when Diaz surveyed the pipe, his eyes moved to Oliver’s with a sadistic glint and then away, towards something else.

Towards _someone_ else. 

With a lurch, Oliver realized they’d circled back to the room where Felicity was hiding. And suddenly, Diaz’s crude pipe weapon seemed infinitely more dangerous. 

“FELICITY!” 

Even as Oliver started quickly towards Diaz, the coward dove over the desk and Oliver felt a primitive shout rip out of his chest as he threw himself after the bastard, determined not to let the man lay a hand on Felicity. She came into view, tottering unsteadily to her feet with a squeak of surprise and alarm. Almost in slow motion, Diaz swung the pipe towards her and Oliver did the only thing he could do:

Oliver threw himself between Felicity and the harm he had foolishly allowed to come near her. 

The pipe connected with Oliver’s midsection with a dull _THUD_ , prompting his already overworked pain receptors to light up in agony as his already broken ribs endured further beating. Breathing became suddenly difficult and Oliver wheezed and struggled to stay on his feet as he continued shielding Felicity, who he began to force to back quickly away with him out of the room. He was well aware that he was incapable of landing a blow on Diaz right now, and the man still had that damnable pipe.

“Oliver? Oliver!” Felicity’s hands on him were featherlight as she sought to make certain he was alright but he could do little more than shake his head as he continued to wheeze weakly. It was one thing to have an all out brawl; it was another thing entirely to have an all out brawl with his wife and child sitting ducks in the middle of the playing field. His concentration, no matter how focused, was by necessity split to ensure their protection. And Diaz was taking every advantage of that. 

Taking an arrow from his quiver, Oliver pressed it into Felicity’s palm and gestured to where the hall dead ended in another office. In return, she held something up before her and he could only blink owlishly at her for a moment before it processed.

She’d grabbed his bow up off the floor back there. His little genius wife. 

Looking at her in joyous disbelief, he could have kissed her but instead forced himself to say the words she needed to be told now. “Go,” he directed in a rasp, firm and unwilling to negotiate. He could see her prepare to argue, only for her eyes to widen.

“OLIVER!” 

Oliver spun in time enough that he managed to half block the blow but Diaz still managed to clock him firmly in the side of the head with the pipe, making the entire world blur and lights explode before his eyes. He went down like a ton of bricks but thankfully remained conscious. His fingers touched his ear and came away blood smeared but Oliver didn’t have time to dwell on how bad that probably was. 

He had to protect Felicity and the baby. At all costs. 

He remained still as Diaz came to stand boastfully over him, the pipe still in his hands. Oliver didn’t wait for Diaz to figure out that he wasn’t unconscious - he kicked at the man with all the strength he could summon, catching him squarely between the legs and sending him reeling backwards. 

It was a cheap shot, but one that had bought him precious seconds. Staggering to his feet, Oliver tried to clear his vision but he was still seeing double from the blow to the head he’d just sustained when Diaz regained himself enough to come stumbling at Oliver, swinging the pipe blindly about in his rage. Oliver managed to duck away but only just barely; he was shuffling to keep his feet under him, off balance and flirting with unconsciousness. The moment he ducked away from Diaz’s swing, Oliver looped his arm around the man’s neck and tried to put him in a headlock, intent on disabling him at least until reinforcements arrived to carry Felicity to safety. But even as he attempted it, he knew his hold was weak.

Diaz knew it too; a moment later, he threw himself back-first into the wall to try and shake Oliver’s chokehold free and he quickly succeeded. Oliver dropped to the floor, his body beginning to give beneath the tremendous amount of pain and stress it was under. 

_No._

His heart and mind screamed out with the knowledge that if he fell, Felicity and the baby would be left unprotected. But Oliver’s body was beyond broken. Blood streamed from his wounds, his arm that had suffered the gunshot wound was nearly numb with pain. His abdomen was in agony from broken ribs and the gunshot that his Kevlar had mostly protected him from. His knee could barely support his weight any longer and his head was still spinning from the blow he’d sustained.

But still, he struggled feebly to stand. Before he could, Oliver felt Diaz’s hands on his suit, hauling him up and pinning him against the wall. Diaz’s hand that Oliver had impaled earlier with an arrow came up to press tightly against his neck. Too tightly. Belatedly, Oliver’s foggy, muddled brain processed what Diaz meant to do and he began to struggle, too little too late. The man already had him in his clutches as he tried to choke the life out of him. And Oliver, battered and beaten, was too weak to fight him off.

It was just as Oliver’s vision started to tunnel that Diaz’s body jerked and his grip slackened enough for Oliver to shake free from it. When he did, a stunning sight met Oliver’s eyes. Precisely where he had told her to hunker down, Felicity stood at the opposite end of the hall, his bow in her hands. Her eyes were rounded coins and the look on her face was one of bewilderment and amazement. It took Oliver a second to process that she no longer was holding the lone arrow he’d given to her for protection. And it took another full second for him to realize that that very same arrow was now lodged in Diaz’s back and judging by the suddenly uneven rattle that accompanied his breathing? Felicity damn well might have hit one of his lungs. 

Felicity had shot Diaz with an arrow. An arrow she had fired from Oliver’s bow. If it hadn’t been a life or death situation, Oliver would have been incredibly aroused. As it was, he settled for being thoroughly amazed by his ever impressive wife.

Before the two men could come to blows again, Oliver heard the sound of familiar, welcome voices drawing nearer. Grabbing an arrow from his quiver, he never took his eyes off of Diaz, even as Helena, Carrie, and John approached him from behind. 

The cavalry had finally arrived. 

\-----

Felicity’s hands shook as she cradled her broken arm back against her chest, trying to ignore the stabbing pain she felt. She was fairly certain that firing Oliver’s bow had rebroken her arm; the surgery Doctor Schwartz had told her about? Yeah. She’d probably be needing that if her arm was going to stand any chance of recovering. 

But she hadn’t been about to watch Diaz snuff the life out of Oliver when it was in her power to stop it. So before she’d even thought about it, she’d shrugged her arm out of its sling, taken the arrow Oliver had given her, fitted it to his bow and after a moment to aim, she’d let it sail.

No one could have been more surprised than she had been when her aim proved true and the arrow had buried itself deep into Diaz’s back.. 

Oliver’s bow clattered forgotten to the floor as she made eye contact with him and when he returned his focus to Diaz, she could only gulp air desperately. Seeing her husband be nearly strangled in front of her? That wasn’t a sight she was likely to forget anytime soon. As if she’d needed further fuel for her nightmares. 

Felicity was still watching as Oliver pinned Diaz against the wall, an arrowhead held to his neck when Helena, Carrie, and John spilled into the hallway, all of them looking worse for wear. Helena had a nasty gash over her right eye that was bleeding profusely, Carrie’s prison uniform had been torn and a dark, rust colored stain at her abdomen had Felicity worrying about stab wounds. John was in the best shape of the three of them, but he was walking with a definite limp as he did a quick scan of the hall. His eyes landed on her and widened before returning to Oliver.

“You okay man?” 

“John, I need you to get Felicity out of here,” Oliver’s voice was a low, dangerous wheeze as he continued to pin Diaz against the wall. John’s eyes swept over the arrow jutting out from the other man’s shoulder, but he said nothing about it. 

“Oliver, I am _not_ leaving you,” Felicity objected stubbornly, even as Helena and Carrie swept past the men and came to her side, looking her over pointedly. The concern radiating off of them both spoke volumes about the friendship that had blossomed between the trio. If anyone had told Felicity a few months ago that she would find herself close friends with Helena Bertinelli and Carrie Cutter, she would have laughed in their faces and told them they were crazy. But they _had_ become friends of a sort. And the worry the pair of them felt for her and her child? Felicity knew it was genuine.

“What the hell did you do to your arm?” Helena questioned gruffly as she saw the awkward angle Felicity was holding it at as she clutched it to her stomach. Felicity drew away, not wanting to be fussed over, trying to tuck her arm away from prying eyes unsuccessfully. 

“I’m fine,” Felicity tried to shake the pair off, feeling more than a little guilty as she took in their wounds up close. “You two need medical attention more than I do.” 

“Agree to disagree, Little Duck,” Carrie countered, gesturing with her chin towards Felicity’s leg. “Your leg is bleeding and so is your face. How’s the Little Duckling?” 

“We’re fine, I promise,” Felicity dismissed their worries, moving as though to go to Oliver’s side, only for his attention to snap to her, whip fast and sharp. 

“Felicity, stay there. I don’t want you anywhere near him.” 

“Smart man, your husband. He knows what I would do to you,” Diaz spat and Oliver bared his teeth, using one hand to twist the arrow in Diaz’s back, causing the other man to shout in anger and pain.

“You don’t speak to her,” Oliver hissed and Felicity knew he was on the edge. One word from Diaz, one wrong move, would send him over. The near miss minutes before had clearly rattled Oliver.

“Oliver, he can’t hurt me now. I’m safe. We’re safe,” she amended, moving to take another step closer only for him to shake his head as he turned to look at her, his eyes wide and wild. 

“You won’t be safe until he’s dead,” Oliver growled, his eyes softening as they traced across her figure. A flicker of something...almost apologetic? Flitted across his eyes. 

“Oliver, you can’t kill him,” Felicity whispered, desperate to touch her husband, to hold him and let him know it would be okay if he would just look to the light. “Watson and the FBI are here. If you kill Diaz, no amount of clever scheming will get them to drop the case against you,” Felicity pleaded, but Oliver just shook his head. 

“All that matters is keeping you and our family safe,” he growled and Felicity extended a hand towards him, yearning to touch him.

“Oliver… Oliver we’re safe as long as we’re with you. Don’t choose to leave us. Not for the likes of him,” Felicity begged, trying to let her eyes speak where her words failed. Oliver met her gaze, tears and pain and anger and fear swirling within them. 

When Oliver spoke again, his voice was all reinforced steel. “John, get her out of here. Please. Helena, Carrie? Go with him. Keep them safe. _Please._ I will find you all...after.” 

It did not escape Felicity’s attention that there was an almost broken quality to Oliver’s voice as he said the words. Nor did she fail to notice how he was practically pleading with them to watch over her. Oliver _never_ begged.

“Oliver, are you sure about this? I don’t want to leave you. Who’s going to watch your six?” John questioned softly, brotherly concern in his tone.

“I’m positive, John. I need to know that she’s safe. I trust you to protect her. To protect _them,”_ Oliver reminded his brother in arms and the two men shared a knowing look before John nodded in reluctant agreement. 

“Alright… I’ll get her out of here-”

“John!” Felicity protested angrily. “No, absolutely not, I’m not letting you all put the focus entirely on me. I’m not the one who was nearly killed by that lunatic just now and I am not leaving you alone to handle this, Oliver!” Felicity refused, actually stamping her good foot as she said the words, ignoring Oliver’s warning look as she stormed closer to him. “You almost _died._ If you think I’m leaving you alone to face this monster you’ve got another thing coming.” 

“I’ll stay with him.” Helena’s voice was high and clear as she spoke up, stepping forward and causing Felicity to stop dead in her tracks. “Oliver needs to finish this. I understand that. I’ll stay behind as his backup. Carrie needs to get the hole in her side patched up anyhow,” Helena pointed out, causing Carrie to frown.

“It’s a scratch.” 

“It’s a stab wound, Carrie,” Helena rolled her eyes, turning her attention to Oliver. “I’ve grappled with that darkness, Oliver. You know I have. I get it. You need to see this through. I’ll back your play. Carrie and John can get her out.” 

“Better yet, everyone can stay here and we can all stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here!” Felicity countered, only for four voices to speak in unison.

“No.” 

Well. That was...resounding. 

“Alright.” Oliver nodded, his voice clipped as he accepted Helena’s offer. Before Felicity could form a coherent counterpoint, she felt John’s hand land on her shoulder and before she could object, he had her in his arms and he was carrying her off, even as she half heartedly struggled.

“JOHN! Put me down! Your leg is injured! I can walk for myself! I’m pregnant, not paralyzed!” 

“Felicity, your leg is also bleeding from what I suspect is a bullet wound. Besides, I know you. I put you down, you’re never gonna leave him.” 

Well. He was right about that. And so, over her staunch objections, Felicity found herself being forcibly removed from the prison by John and Carrie. Her last glimpse of Oliver was of him continuing to hold Diaz pinned against the wall, refusing to meet her eyes. His last words did not exactly inspire confidence in what he would do once she was gone.

“I will find you after it’s done, Felicity.” 

“Oliver, don’t. Not for me.” He’d killed for her before. She had never wanted to put him in the position of having to do it again. “Please. Please, Oliver. Don’t do it. If we’re going to walk away from this as a family, you cannot kill him.” 

But as John carried her away shouting, Oliver refused to meet her gaze and then he was gone from view as she was ushered out of the prison and away from her husband.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it - the last chapter! I just want to thank you all for going on this ride with me. I appreciate all of you taking the time to read, leave comments and kudos, etc. Your support and kindness mean a lot! I hope you enjoy the conclusion of this story. I want to thank all my friends who helped me with this - from encouraging me, editing, doing writing sprints, etc. Calli, Elley, Abby, Lettie, Cerys - you mean so much to me. Thank you!
> 
> Next week I'll start posting my next multi-chap, Coming Home Someday, so you won't have long to wait for more stories from me. For now - on to the end of this story! Thanks for sticking by me on this wild ride. All the angst will hopefully be worth it after this chapter.

Felicity had held herself together remarkably well, by her estimation. 

She was in pain - both emotional and physical - as John had carried her out of Iron Heights. And he hadn’t stopped until she was free and clear not just of the prison building itself, but the many fences that made up its perimeter as well. At that point, she insisted that John set her down and let her walk on her own two feet, which he did, albeit grudgingly. Leaning on him heavily for support (her injured leg was beginning to scream with pain as the adrenaline began to wear off), Felicity took in her surroundings with an owlish expression. In the parking lot, a flurry of activity met them; countless FBI vehicles, SWAT vans, and even a handful of ambulances sat idle while people rushed every which way. Felicity’s eyes flared as she saw paramedics tending to FBI agents, among them she recognized none other than Curtis in his alter ego’s costume. 

“You guys ever going to explain to me the story behind getting the other half of the team back?” Felicity queried in a low voice to John, who just chuckled and put a hand on her back as he gently guided her towards the nearest ambulance. 

“I’ll let Oliver fill you in; it’s a long story but mostly? It starts and ends with you.” 

“With me?!” 

“Don’t act surprised, Felicity; you’ve always inspired people to be their best selves. It’s your superpower. Just look at Oliver.” 

“Oliver is a special case, he’s my husband,” she pointed out and John chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, _now._ But before you two were ever a thing, you pushed him to be and do better. It’s kind of what you do. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.” 

“So you’re saying my superpower made those three stop being such thick headed jerks?” 

“I’m saying it made it very hard for them to justify not helping someone they knew to be a good person and innocent. They caved quickly,” John smirked and Felicity couldn’t help but feel a little pleased that the trio had been guilted into helping by their own consciences. 

Lapsing into silence, Felicity allowed herself to be led over to the ambulances, at which point John immediately made her sit down and asked a paramedic to check her over. The paramedic only had time enough to tend to her leg wound before a familiar voice cut in, making Felicity go still. 

“I’ll take over from here, if that’s alright?” 

Doctor Schwartz stood in front of the ambulance, holding her stethoscope where it was slung around her neck, her dark eyes studying Felicity worriedly. The paramedic looked to Felicity for confirmation and when she nodded, the young woman flitted off, allowing Doctor Schwartz to take over. 

“I’m glad to see you in one piece,” the doctor remarked softly and Felicity grimaced and held her injured arm aloft.

“Relatively speaking; I think some parts of me are in more pieces than they were before,” she joked, but the doctor winced, clearly none too pleased as she moved forward, gently prodding at Felicity’s arm. 

“Diaz’s handiwork?” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Felicity answered, offering the brunette a lopsided smile but the doctor’s eyes were dark with concern. 

“And the baby?” 

“We’re fine, honestly; I’m fairly certain that my arm and my leg are the worst of it. The plan worked just the way we’d hoped. Diaz really thought you’d really defected and sold me out; he never suspected you might be double crossing him. The lure of me being pregnant was way too much for him to resist, just like we thought it would be. So, after your ‘defection’,” Felicity put this in air quotes, “-Diaz had the guards bring me up to the Warden’s office. Oliver found me there before Diaz could do anything to me - or the baby.” 

It had been a mad gamble. One that Oliver had been staunchly against. But Felicity had seen only one way forward that held the possibility of getting both her and her husband out from under the legal troubles plaguing them. But Felicity had had full faith in Oliver’s ability to protect her and their baby, even from the likes of a monster like Diaz. Getting the doctor to agree to the double cross had been nearly as difficult as getting Oliver to approach Watson to strike the deal but in the end, Felicity had been able to push and persuade all parties into agreeing.

Doctor Schwartz had pretended to sell them out to Diaz. Watson had agreed to an immunity deal for Felicity and Oliver both if she got Diaz in custody complete with proof of his crimes. And Oliver had gotten all hands on deck, ready to storm the prison to save her. It had been absolutely brazen and more than a little dangerous. But it had worked. And the doctor had been a linchpin in seeing the plan play out. 

Elisa Schwartz blew out the breath she’d been holding and shook her head, shooting Felicity a dark look. 

“Do not _ever_ ask me to betray doctor-patient confidentiality ever again. Please. Even _pretending_ to betray you and my oath made me sick and worrying about you while all this played out probably gave me an ulcer,” the doctor sighed, fitting the eartips of her stethoscope into her ears before placing the chestpiece on Felicity’s stomach with a gentle nod. “Inhale…” 

Felicity looked up at the doctor with a relaxed smile, laying her hand over the doctor’s. “I know that I asked a lot of you by asking you to play along with my little scheme. But… thanks to you? I’m going to get out of this place and my baby and I will both be safe. My entire family will be safe. I know you think you endangered us by going along with the plan that I concocted but...you saved us. Thank you.” 

The brunette grew still as she looked at Felicity and then she cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes, nodding wordlessly before she resumed her exam and Felicity fell quiet and obeyed the doctor’s gentle requests to ‘inhale’ and ‘exhale’. 

The examination continued from there and to Felicity’s immense relief, Doctor Schwartz confirmed what Felicity had believed to be true - the baby seemed to be fine, and aside from her arm and her leg (which had required some cleaning and stitches), Felicity was by and large okay too. She was able to wash herself up a bit with some moist towelettes the ambulance had stocked and though she was jonesing for a shower, Felicity felt worlds better for the small act of cleaning her face. 

When Doctor Schwartz had finished with her, Felicity and John sought out Agent Watson, who was overseeing the entire operation. According to the agents they’d run into, she was already on the outside of the prison, directing efforts now that the building was secure. Knowing that the woman was out here, on the outside, gave Felicity pause.

Where the hell was Oliver? If the building was secure, didn’t that mean Oliver and Diaz should be out? Felicity desperately wanted to have her husband in her arms. She just prayed he hadn’t done anything that would see him wrenched away from her. Suddenly, she found herself peering at the FBI vehicles scrutinizingly, wanting to be certain Oliver wasn’t sitting inside one in handcuffs.

God help her. She didn’t know what she’d do if on the day she got out of prison, Oliver got thrown in.

“Mrs. Smoak-Queen. This is quite the mess you’ve wrangled me into,” Watson remarked as Felicity approached the FBI agent, John at her side. 

“Last I checked, you agreed to the terms I asked Oliver to bring to you on my behalf. You’re here of your own accord, Agent Watson,” Felicity reminded the woman flatly, only for the quick witted agent to shake her head and laugh.

“Yeah, fair enough. Some bargain I’ve struck; I get a mountain of paperwork and this mess to clean up-”

“-and Ricardo Diaz,” Felicity reminded the agent sweetly. 

“-and Ricardo Diaz, yes. Which would be a hell of a lot more impressive if I had more proof to pin against him for all these charges you say he’s guilty of,” Watson was quick to point out. Felicity smiled and reached into her uniform pocket to retrieve the signal jammer that she and Helena had used for the last few months to communicate between each other safely. Holding it aloft before her victoriously, she nodded to it.

“This was originally supposed to jam signals, but I did a little tinkering on my own - not easy to do from prison, by the way. _Especially_ when you’re denied access to electronics, but I’m not a genius for nothing. I reverse engineered it to be a listening device with a little help from the prison doctor’s phone. Have your techs play this back. I’ve got Ricardo Diaz discussing how he bought off the prison guards to beat me. I have him admitting to framing me for the charges that landed me in here. I have him saying that he bought off the judge in my case and the jury. I have audio of him threatening to kill me and then assaulting Oliver. I think that should be a good place to start but if you need more, I can get you more evidence, once I’m out of here. Which, if my husband negotiated the way he was supposed to, should be part of the deal?” Felicity’s voice lilted in the end, as if in a question. But it was a question she already knew the answer to and so did Watson.

Rolling her eyes, the other woman put out a hand for the signal jammer, a wry smile on her face as Felicity shook her head.

“I need you to say it before I hand this over to you, Agent Watson. And I need you to promise that this does not leave your hands and that you’ll let me supervise the techs pulling the data off of it. I’m not risking anything. My family and I have had enough of corrupt officials to last us a lifetime. No offense.”

“None taken,” Watson answered with a snort, shaking her head in amusement. “Yes. Your freedom is part of the deal. Which you know already. You walk. Your conviction is being overturned as we speak. And the FBI has dropped the investigation against your husband and it has been closed. _Permanently_. You both get to walk out of here as free people - just as soon as I have Ricardo Diaz in my custody. Satisfied?”

“Very,” Felicity hummed, happily handing over the signal jammer to Watson. “Now, speaking of my husband…Where is he?” 

A throat clearing behind her drew her attention to Diggle and when Felicity looked at him, she saw him pointing towards the prison. Felicity and Watson followed his gesture and Felicity felt every fiber of her being crackle to attention.

Limping out of the prison, bloodied and weary, was Oliver. Helena flanked him, her expression one of cool collectedness and betraying nothing of whatever had transpired back in the prison after Felicity had been forced to leave. And between them, handcuffed and shuffling, looking as bad as Oliver, if not worse, was Ricardo Diaz. Alive - albeit battered. 

Despite what it had likely cost him to let the monster live, Oliver had chosen not to kill him. And in so doing? Oliver had chosen, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be with his family. The thought alone made her breath catch in her throat as Felicity allowed her eyes to run over Oliver. By looking at him, it was impossible to know what had transpired after she had been carried away. But all that mattered was that he was here. And he had not done something foolish to throw away his chance at being reunited with her. 

Oliver had been forced to choose between vengeance and his family. And he had chosen them. And somehow, she knew if asked? He’d tell her there had been no choice to make. But there had been every choice. And seeing what he’d chosen? It made her heart swell. 

Watson suddenly forgotten, Felicity began to take a few, shaky steps towards her husband, hesitating as a slew of FBI agents converged on him. Oliver ceded Diaz to their custody, looking for all the world like a sleepwalker. She could see his eyes searching the crowded parking lot and she felt the moment his eyes landed on her like a jolt of electricity to the heart. 

He moved towards her as though magnetically drawn and she did likewise, unable to help but notice how he was limping badly, the blood that covered his face, his hunched posture that just screamed of how much pain he was in. All of it she took in with worry but she could not help the silent joy she felt at seeing him _alive._ Some part of her had been terrified he’d die doing something brash and heroic in the name of defending her honor, or avenging her, or some such nonsense. And still another part of her had feared his rabid need to protect, defend, and avenge would lead him to kill the man that, in Oliver’s eyes, would always loom as a threat to their family. The killing, in truth, would not have bothered her as much as it once would have - but if their deal with Watson was to hold? They needed Diaz alive. And while with the recordings she had, Felicity’s conviction would still have been overturned, the deal that they had struck to also save Oliver would have been forfeit - and he could have and would have likely gone to prison if he had walked out of Iron Heights with a corpse and not the living, breathing man himself. 

Thank god Oliver had grown past that foolishness. She didn’t need him avenging the wrongs that had been done to her - to _them_. She just needed _him._ She needed _them. Their family_. Together. That was more than enough for her. It always had been - and it always would be. 

She could see he was fidgeting with his wedding ring as he strode towards her and Felicity let her fingers go to touch her own ring subconsciously, needing the cool touch of the metal to ground her in this moment. Felicity felt like she was dreaming as she hobbled slowly but steadily towards Oliver. His eyes were fixed on her with single minded focus, as if with the force of his gaze alone he could draw her to him. How many times had she dreamed of reuniting with him? Too many to count. She couldn’t seem to tear her attention away from him and truthfully, she didn’t want to. If she never left the comfort of his gaze, she would be happy for it. 

His eyes traveled over her, drinking her in, stuttering on her middle and Felicity felt a pang of nerves. What must Oliver see as he looked upon her now? The woman he’d married had been relatively put together. Kind of pretty. Slim. Funny in a weird, witty way that could sometimes be endearing. Gentle. And now? Well, now she was bruised and bloody, brooding and broken. She did not feel cute or pretty or endearing or gentle and slim? She was anything _but_ slim - even her cheeks had begun to round as her pregnancy had continued to change the lines of her body from head to toe. Felicity was even convinced her feet had gotten bigger. 

Apparently the injustices never ceased where pregnancy was concerned. 

Her anxiety spiked when he stopped short before her, just shy of actually holding her and god, she wanted to be held by him. His eyes devoured her but his hands hovered over her without actually touching her, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he seemed to struggle to find the words. For a brief moment, Felicity’s insecurities flared brightly in her mind’s eye and then, stealing a glance at Oliver’s trembling hands, it clicked in her head. 

He was afraid.

“I’m not broken, Oliver,” she assured him. And somehow, saying it made it true. However broken she might feel, she would never be too broken for his touch. 

Oliver’s eyes closed in silent relief and his arms wrapped her up and folded her gently into his warm embrace and it was all she could do not to fall apart as she crashed into him like a wave upon the shore. Her arms slipped up beneath his to hold him to her as she nuzzled his chest, relishing the sense of safety and warmth and affection that she found in his arms. The embrace went on for a short eternity before she felt one of his hands slide up to cup the side of her face and she drew away from him so she could look up at him, silently submitting to his visual inspection as he studied each inch of her visible to him.

“You’re bleeding,” he muttered, anxiety coloring his voice. Frowning, she followed his gaze and saw the blood smears on her uniform top and she shook her head, quick to assuage his fears. 

“It’s not mine. I mean - I was bleeding, I got grazed in the leg but this blood’s not mine. I-It was his.”

Oliver’s countenance darkened for a moment but he closed his eyes and nodded and when his eyes reopened, the darkness was gone. He continued to study her with painstaking attention to detail. With a shiver, she realized this was an inspection he’d continue later, when he could look over every single inch of her body for signs of injury and harm. The very idea of being alone like that with him was enough to make her heart race. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips that slowly deepened and she moaned softly as his fingers threaded through her hair and his palm cupped the back of her head. The kiss was tender and loving, heavy with longing born of months of separation. It was a kiss that was tinged with promise and haunting, beautiful and tragic and it both healed and hurt.

When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Felicity let her hands run down his arms (mindful of his injuries as she did so), her fingers lighting delicately on his before she drew his hands toward her stomach. Guiding him beneath the loose fitting material of her prison uniform, Felicity placed his hands upon the growing bulge that was their child. The look of shock that dawned on his face delighted her, as did the way his breath caught in his throat the moment his fingertips met her flesh.

“Oliver...Meet the newest member of the Smoak-Queen family,” Felicity exhaled softly, watching as her husband dropped reverently to his knees before her, his fingers gently prying back the oversized orange prison top to expose her stomach to his eyes. 

With a shy, dazed smile, Oliver allowed his eyes to trace across the prominent swell between her hips with utter wonder and a look as akin to ecstasy as Felicity had ever seen. With great care, Oliver leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against her stomach before he stroked the bump with his fingers, putting his ear against her as though to listen to their child. 

“Hey you… I’m your Dad,” Oliver murmured sweetly and Felicity felt the fractured pieces of her world fitting back into place. The fault lines were still there - and they always would be, really - but she felt more whole in that moment than she had in a long, _long_ time. Her fingers carded through Oliver’s hair as she held him close, listening to the soft words of reassurance he murmured to their unborn child; loving declarations and promises that made her heart swell.

When he finally found his feet again, he touched his forehead to hers and simply breathed in the smell of her and she did likewise with him, taking tremendous joy in the solid warmth of his body against hers. God, she’d missed him, missed this. 

“I was so afraid I’d lost you both _so_ many times,” Oliver croaked hoarsely and Felicity’s eyes squeezed shut as she caught the wobble in his voice that signalled how emotional he was feeling at the moment. 

“You should know by now that you can’t lose me, Oliver,” Felicity returned warmly, smoothing her palm across the side of his face and holding him reassuringly as he leaned into the touch with a soft sigh. “I’m glue, baby. Remember?” 

With that, she rose onto her tiptoes to close the distance between them until her lips covered his and she felt him reciprocate eagerly. His hands came to frame her hips, his thumbs drawing reassuring little circles on her baby bump while the kiss continued and deepened as they reconnected as only they could. It was some time before they broke apart but when they did, he nuzzled her tenderly, finally seeming at peace. 

“Felicity?” 

“Hmm?” she hummed in satisfaction, content to rest her face against his chest while he held her protectively. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Home. God that sounded good. By way of response, she gently peeled herself off of Oliver’s chest and came to stand with him on her right, allowing her good hand to knit through his and she smiled up at him beatifically. 

“I’d like that.” 

Hand in hand, Felicity and Oliver moved through the parking lot, leaving the prison, Diaz, and all the associated wreckage behind them. And as they walked clear of the FBI vehicles and the ambulances, they never once turned to look back.

They were going home. Together. 

\-----

_Five months later..._

\-----

A brisk autumn wind blew through the towering pines surrounding a simple, quaint cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. The ivy trellises on the cabin’s facade rustled in the breeze; already, some of its leaves had begun to change, the vibrant green giving way to yellow gold and candy apple red here and there in the face of the premature autumn chill. Fall was on its way early this year.

The grassy area surrounding the cabin played host to a variety of things; a set of oversized, comfy chairs for one, a sizable telescope for another. A bocce ball set had been discarded near the neat wooden staircase up to the cabin, and what looked to be a half built satellite dish of some sort sat idly in the corner of the yard with a smattering of tools. 

Inside the charming little home, the first stirrings of morning activity were just beginning. As Oliver padded out from the master bedroom to the kitchen, he blinked sleepily and smiled at the sight that met his eyes. William was seated at the dining table, engrossed in using his newly acquired soldering iron for some component of the satellite dish he’d been trying to build from scratch on his own. He looked up as his father entered the kitchen and flashed him a smile. 

“Morning, Dad.” 

“Good morning, William,” Oliver exhaled smilingly, watching his son at work for another minute before he moved into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “What do you want for breakfast this morning?” 

Retirement had many perks. But there were few things Oliver loved more than being able to enjoy quiet mornings with his family, making them a homemade meal at the start of each day and at each day’s end. 

Felicity liked to tease him that ‘food’ was his love language. She also liked to blame him for her ever expanding stomach which, now that she was nine months pregnant? Was admittedly, rather sizable. And… well. Yeah. He’d had something of a hand in getting her in that condition. Guilty as charged.

William shrugged, not terribly interested in breakfast, too focused on the project spread before him at the table. That wasn’t unusual; since the Smoak-Queen family had relocated to Bloomfield and permanently left Star City behind, William had been throwing himself into all things tech. By Felicity’s estimation? William was on track to be the next Steve Jobs or Bill Gates within the next two decades. Maybe less, if he maintained the voracious appetite for learning that he’d demonstrated here in Bloomfield. 

William was not only currently ranked first in his year for grades - he was also the captain of the robotics team and student body treasurer. Bloomfield, it seemed, agreed with him. 

In truth? It agreed with Oliver too. He’d thought he would miss donning the Green Arrow suit far more than he actually had. After the events of the last year? Oliver wasn’t sure he’d ever look at the suit the same way again Yes, being the Arrow had led him to Felicity. But staying the Arrow? It had almost cost him the very same woman. 

Nothing was worth losing her over.

After Watson made good on having Felicity’s conviction overturned and Oliver’s investigation closed, the couple had agreed that, though their love for Team Arrow work was still strong, it could not be allowed to destroy their family - which it had very nearly succeeded in doing. So they’d agreed to step back. Retire. And find other, legitimate ways to help the world - in the light of day. It had proven to be a wise choice - with proof of Felicity’s innocence, Watson had partnered with ARGUS to determine just how pervasive Diaz’s rotten reach had been and the search had yielded alarming answers. Diaz had reached out to and become entangled with the likes of the Quadrant, an organization so alarming that the FBI had retained a strong presence in Star City until such time as they could be certain that the Quadrant had moved on. 

It was the Quadrant who had apparently been the ones to provide Diaz the tech support he needed to frame Felicity in the first place. The story of Cooper and his involvement had been yet another lie from a man who had built his power on corruption and deceit. The news that Cooper had not pulled off a second ‘back from the dead’ surprise had elicited quiet mixed emotions from Felicity but she had accepted it as stoically as she could. Oliver knew that some part of her had hoped to find him alive, having truly believed in the change of heart he’d displayed before he’d been killed by Darhk. But the idea that a man she had loved would betray her and frame her for the crimes she’d been accused of had also gutted her, so Oliver knew she’d also been relieved that Cooper hadn’t had anything to do with it. It was all just more pain from Diaz, who had inflicted so much hurt already. 

Unfortunately, the hurt had not been at an end the day they had left Iron Heights behind them though. 

The knowledge that an organization as nefarious as the Quadrant had begun to move into Star City had been alarming. The fact that the group had allied with Diaz meant that the Quadrant was well aware of Felicity and Oliver and their nighttime alter egos. Which meant that they might very well become targets on the Quadrant’s radar if they chose to seek vengeance against the Smoak-Queens for their involvement in Diaz’s capture. The notion had been more than a little concerning. If the Quadrant had tech resources with skills on par with the likes of Cooper, Felicity, and Noah, then there was no telling what they were capable of, with that kind of skill combined with the organization’s reach.

And so, the Smoak-Queen family had begun their new lives, well away from Star City, in a place where they could finally lead quiet, safe, _normal_ lives in the light of day. They’d elected not to assume new identities but instead had opted to come to Bloomfield, where they were surrounded by security measures that would have made the President jealous. And safely tucked away, they had begun to make a new start for themselves.

For Felicity, this had taken the shape of getting her own tech company, Smoak Tech, off the ground. She was in the process of getting things up and running. Already, her first pieces of tech were in production, with an expected release date to the public in the coming spring. From what Oliver could gather, Felicity had devised security measures so advanced that no amount of hacking ought to be able to triangulate where she was working remotely from. As if Oliver had needed further confirmation of his wife’s genius.

For Oliver? Helping the world looked a little different. When he wasn’t acting as a consultant on the security system Felicity was designing, he consulted for ARGUS. With Lyla and John now practically running the show, Oliver felt more at ease about what actions his consultations would help contribute to. The Diggles were far and above more trustworthy than Amanda Waller ever had been; ARGUS was in good hands and Oliver could sleep soundly for helping them. 

They’d left Star City and its defense to the splintered faction of their former team members; already they’d fielded more than a few panic stricken calls from Curtis, Rene, and Dinah. Oliver had offered his help, but only as much as could be given over the phone. He and Felicity were adamant that they commit to their new, normal life. And that life did not include vigilante-ing on the weekends. But it _did_ include eating marshmallows over the fire pit and chuckling about their former teammates’ screw ups. For three people that had insisted they could do a better job than Oliver ever had, thus far the trio wasn’t off to a promising start - a fact which shocked precisely no one. Thankfully, Mayor Quentin Lance was navigating his new role so effectively, there was less need for ‘JV Team Arrow Squad’, as Felicity liked to refer to the new baby vigilante group (or, in her moodier moments, ‘The Witless Wonders’). 

And as for Helena and Carrie? Thanks to the support of Felicity’s character witness on their behalf, coupled with the backing of ARGUS, both women had been given reduced sentences and released early for ‘good behavior’. And in what Felicity had called a ‘rather poetic turn of events’, both women had been placed in charge of overseeing the retention of dangerous criminals in ARGUS custody - which, because of a partnership between the FBI and ARGUS? Included one Ricardo Diaz. 

In Oliver’s opinion? If he couldn’t kill Diaz (and he had come rather close, in those long moments when only he and Helena had remained in the prison), then having the man be watched night and day by his wife’s avenging angels? Well...that was at least an acceptable runner up option. And in truth? Oliver was a little afraid of Carrie Cutter’s devotion to Felicity. If he was Diaz? He wouldn’t set a toe out of line in Carrie’s presence. The woman had not and would not forgive Diaz’s transgressions against Carrie’s favorite ‘Little Duck’. Case in point? Upon being released, Carrie had gotten a baby shower gift delivered to Felicity (by way of Lyla, who had refused to give Carrie their address, for good reason). The gift in question had included a number of duck themed baby clothing and decor items, along with a gushing note from ‘Aunt Carrie’. 

Oliver supposed his child could do worse than to have Carrie Cutter for an aunt. And Helena too for that matter - she’d also managed to get word to the couple that she was doing well in her new role at ARGUS and that she wished them - and her ‘godchild’ as she referred to their unborn baby - well. On the bright side? Oliver very much doubted any child living had more devoted protectors than his unborn son or daughter. But hell if he was going to ask them to babysit anytime soon. 

There were limits to what Oliver was capable of. And leaving his child in the care of two reformed murderous vigilantes? Yeah. That was too much. Felicity, however, enjoyed maintaining frequent email correspondence with both women, having grown incredibly close to both of them during her time in prison. It was a little odd to have his ex-girlfriend so chummy with his wife but Oliver rolled with it.

What Felicity wanted, Felicity got. Oliver did his best to see to that. 

And so the Smoak-Queen family had settled into a rather comfortable life of what they considered as close to domestic bliss as was possible for a family of ex-vigilantes to achieve. And that was precisely why most mornings found Oliver precisely as he was now: washing his hands at the sink in preparation for making another homemade breakfast for his family. After drying his hands on a kitchen towel, he slung it over his shoulder and set about getting Felicity’s morning glass of ginger water prepped. As he did so, he shot a glance William’s way, deciding to try once more and suss out what the teenager wanted to eat.

“You sure bud? No breakfast requests?” Oliver prodded gently, only for his son to sit back from his project and run a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll have whatever Felicity is craving,” William offered with a lopsided grin and Oliver chuckled and shook his head, only to be drawn up by one of his favorite sounds:

His wife’s voice.

“If we needed further confirmation that our son is a genius, I’m pretty sure he just gave it to us,” Felicity hummed as she waddled around the corner, one hand on her lower back, the other hand brushing away the stray locks of hair that had come free from her messy topknot. Oliver couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips at the mere sight of her, no makeup on, sleep still in her eyes. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. On this or any other earth.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Oliver murmured as she approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he bent to greet her with a kiss that she returned. 

“Mmm. Beautiful? You’re such a liar.” 

“Am not,” Oliver returned quickly, pressing another kiss to her lips before he dropped a hand to caress her stomach, then bent to press a kiss to the swell of it as well. “Good morning, little one.” 

“Sap,” Felicity teased as she stood patiently while Oliver carried out this morning ritual, reaching for the glass of ginger water he had ready and waiting for her. By the time Oliver had finished his morning greetings to her womb, Felicity had polished off the ginger water. Ever since she’d been released from prison, they’d incorporated plenty of ginger and other anti-nausea home remedies into her daily routine. Thankfully, it seemed to be working - her morning sickness had decreased tenfold, a fact which had made Oliver endlessly happy. Not being able to care for her while she’d been in prison had driven him nearly mad. The moment she’d been out? He’d been stuffing her with natural remedies and organic foods meant to help create a healthy pregnancy.

“What do you and the precious cargo want for breakfast this morning, hmm?” Oliver queried as he straightened and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. As much as he couldn’t wait to meet their child, he had to admit - he would miss seeing Felicity like this. There was something incomparably beautiful and attractive about seeing her heavy with their child. Knowing that each day, their baby was growing within her? It cut to the core of him. 

“Mmm…” Felicity pondered, wrapping her arms around his waist before she rose onto her tiptoes to peer up at him. “Monte cristos?!” 

Oliver could only blink. “For breakfast?!” He hadn’t meant for it to sound judgmental but...well… Felicity was _notorious_ for opting for the less than healthy options when given free rein over mealtimes. The greatest struggle Oliver had endured through her pregnancy after they’d been reunited was in getting her to eat nutritious food instead of following the whim of her every (sugary) craving.

He’d lost a fair few times (pop tarts had returned to her diet with a vengeance). But he’d also won plenty of others (broccolini, asparagus, and lentil curry had become staples) 

“Dad! You _do not_ question the cravings!” William intervened, rising from the table and strolling to Felicity, who he promptly solicited for a hug. Felicity grinned at their son and abandoned Oliver to embrace William, pressing a kiss to the side of his face lovingly, William being too tall these days for her to kiss the top of his head as she once had. 

“See? What did I tell you? Genius, this one,” Felicity beamed. With that, the pair fell to discussing William’s project and Felicity went to look over the component that William had been soldering earlier. Left to make the aforementioned monte cristos, Oliver busied himself with the food preparation, falling into the familiar, comfortable refrain of the kitchen. By the time he had the food ready, he was fully awake and completely relaxed and at ease. 

Yeah. Retired life was going _really_ well. 

Plating the sandwiches, he served them to his wife and son with his usual panache, taking endless joy in watching William tuck into the food without delay. Felicity, however, hesitated and Oliver zeroed in on this, attentive to her needs more so now than ever before. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” 

“It’s just… it’s _missing_ something…” Felicity frowned, staring at the sandwich in puzzlement for several long seconds. Oliver moved towards the refrigerator and drew the door open, scanning the shelves for some sort of food item to accompany the sandwich.

“What about some fresh fruit? We’ve got grapes, raspberries, cantaloupe…” Oliver trailed off, chancing a glance at Felicity but she shook her head and he returned his attention to the fridge. “Avocado? Carrot slices?” Another glance her way earned him another shake of her head. Growing a little more desperate, Oliver started suggesting some of the wilder options available to them - her cravings, after all, had been all over the board. “Pickles? Olives?” 

This time she stuck out her tongue. “Blech. No.” 

“Dad, the olives made her sick last week,” William pointed out and Oliver frowned.

“What?! When?!” 

William paled and glanced at Felicity guiltily. “Uh… when we had ice cream for breakfast and she ate them sprinkled on top?” William offered, wilting as Felicity shook her head teasingly at him.

“I cannot believe you narked on us,” she deadpanned before fixing a blinding smile in place as she turned to meet Oliver’s stern gaze. 

“You two had _ice cream_ for _breakfast_ the one morning I wasn’t around to supervise you because I was on a conference call _?!”_ Oliver queried, crossing his arms before him reprovingly. But instead of looking guilty, Felicity just lit up.

 _“That’s_ what’s missing! Strawberry ice cream!” she gasped, leaping from her chair (‘leaping’ being perhaps a generous description - she stood up from her chair with all the uncoordinated grace of a newborn gazelle). Without delay, Felicity pushed her way to stand beside Oliver at the fridge. Keenly aware of the disapproving look he was giving her, Felicity pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips and then ducked into the freezer, emerging with a pint of strawberry ice cream which she carried unapologetically back to the table with her.

“You’re incorrigible,” Oliver muttered at her as he brought her an ice cream scoop and a spoon and then proceeded to dole out two monstrous scoops of the stuff on top of her sandwich. But he couldn’t even maintain the frown because watching Felicity delightedly lick her lips as she made quick work of the sandwich and ice cream? 

It made him positively elated. Everything she did elated him; it was one of her many superpowers.

“So… strawberry, hmm? Not in the mood for mint chip?” Oliver queried innocently as he watched Felicity eat while he finished up the breakfast dishes. She paused and shot him a knowing look, the gleam in her eyes making his blood heat. 

“You know full well mint chip is my mid-morning snack. _After_ I’ve done some work on Smoak Tech stuff,” Felicity reminded him coolly, glancing at William who was totally oblivious as he gathered his backpack. The teenager flashed them both a grin as he dumped his plate in the sink.

“Thanks for breakfast, Dad. Have a good day at work, Felicity. Bye!” 

Without delay, he flew out the door and down the cabin steps. The sound of the back door slamming closed followed a few long seconds later and then Felicity turned her focus to Oliver with a smirk. 

“I bet you think you’re _really_ clever, bringing up ‘mint chip’ like that,” she growled, rising to prowl across the kitchen towards him. Or at least, the best approximation of a prowl that she could manage - try though she might, Felicity waddled everywhere she went these days - the product of the pregnancy and an adorable one at that. At least, by Oliver’s estimation. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Oliver played innocent and she snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“Uh huh, sure.” 

“Are you off to work now too, then?” Oliver followed up, still harping on the innocent shtick and Felicity grinned at him, shaking her head. 

“Yes, actually. These biomedical implants aren’t going to design themselves.” 

Oliver pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and smiled at her encouragingly. “Go knock ‘em dead.” 

The rest of the morning followed what had become a happy little routine for them; with William at school, Felicity worked on Smoak Tech matters in her home office while Oliver responded to emails regarding some ARGUS business. By midmorning, Oliver was at the freezer, doling out a small scoop of mint chip into two bowls when Felicity appeared in the entryway, surveying him in amusement. 

“What on earth are you doing?” 

“It’s midmorning. According to you, that’s when you like to have your midmorning snack,” Oliver responded sweetly and Felicity chuckled before she tottered towards him, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“We both know _that,”_ she gestured towards the bowls on the counter, “-isn’t the kind of mint chip I was referring to…” Felicity trailed off, her eyes sparkling as she stared up at him. Oliver beamed and then his lips found hers in a kiss that very quickly deepened. 

The bowls of ice cream forgotten on the counter, Oliver steadied Felicity at her waist as he slowly but purposefully walked her backwards towards their bedroom, his heart speeding up as she hummed softly against his lips. 

“Mmm, I do love this kind of mint chip,” she confessed with a little grin before she kissed him again and he lost himself in it as they made their way to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them with a soft _click._

But no sooner had Felicity pushed Oliver up against the closed door than did she freeze, her lips rounding into a perfect ‘O’ as her eyes flew up to his. 

“What? Morning sickness?” Oliver queried, fully ready to grab her the bathroom trash to retch into if need be. But Felicity shook her head, suddenly breathing heavier than she had been a moment before. 

“N-No umm… I think that...M-My water just broke?” 

\-----

The quiet little cabin was much less quiet and much more occupied that afternoon when Thea pulled into the drive. The gray hardtop Jeep hadn’t even come to a complete stop before William rocketed out of it like a bullet from a gun, bounding up the steps and into the cabin before his Aunt had even gotten out of the driver seat.

The teenager raced in from the back porch, thankfully having the good sense not to let the door slam behind him as he came inside. He looked around the room breathlessly, not even bothering to say hello to John and Lyla, who were seated on the couch talking to Oliver, who stood nearby and turned as he heard William come in. 

“Are they okay?!” 

Oliver felt a pang at the noticeable worry on his son’s face; Felicity had informed him a few weeks ago that William had asked her about the risks associated with childbirth. Apparently the boy had done some late night googling that had put him ill at ease about his stepmother’s prognosis with her current pregnancy. The child who had already lost so much was clearly afraid of losing still more - and Oliver couldn’t fault him for being afraid. Oliver had spent the better part of the first half of Felicity’s pregnancy in a constant state of fear. And even after she’d been returned safely to his arms, that fear had still reared its head on more than one occasion, leading to plenty of lost sleep and frightening nightmares.

But the fear had, thankfully, not been justified - Felicity’s labor had been a mercifully fast and complication free one. 

“They’re both fine. Clean bills of health all around,” Oliver reassured his son, taking heart in the way William’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief and his lips pulled into a happy smile. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” William asked with understated eagerness and Oliver could only chuckle, only too aware of just how keen William was to know the answer to this question.

“You have a very healthy, very _noisy_ little sister. She just finished showing off just how well her lungs work,” Oliver informed him, prompting William’s smile to grow even wider and a little dazed.

“I have a little sister?” 

“You do,” Oliver nodded, clapping William’s shoulder good naturedly. 

“What’s her name?!”

At this, Oliver softened still more as he replayed the conversation he and Felicity had had together in bed one night, soon after they’d been reunited, shortly after the big move to Bloomfield. 

“Mia,” Oliver murmured gently and he saw William’s smile grow wider still, a dazzled quality lighting up his eyes. 

“That was my favorite of the girl names,” he confessed and Oliver chuckled, wrapping his son into a hug that was thoroughly joyful. The parents-to-be had brainstormed a short list of names, one list for boy names and one for girls, and they’d shared their ideas with William, getting his input and involving him in the process. It had been William who had firmly vetoed Felicity’s suggestion of ‘Lucas’, though he’d regained Felicity’s favor later when he’d supported her addition of ‘Ada’ to the list of girl names. 

“How’s Mom?”

For a moment, Oliver couldn’t breathe. Up to now, William had never referred to Felicity as ‘Mom’. She’d never expected him to, Oliver knew. They’d had a conversation early on about what William was comfortable with and what he wasn’t. William had been keen on Felicity referring to him as her son but he’d expressed no desire to call her anything other than ‘Felicity’. And Felicity had been more than content with the status quo. 

Oliver didn’t know whether or not to call attention to this new development but he ultimately decided not to. After all, Felicity was now a mother to a newborn; it would have been well within the spectrum of normalcy for someone to ask how ‘Mom’ was doing, without meaning to refer to Felicity as THEIR mother. 

He was making mountains out of molehills. And he still needed to respond to his son. 

“She’s good, yeah,” Oliver mumbled, tripping over himself and the words. “She’s, you know, she’s tired, but she did amazing and she’s just in the other room resting. But you can go in there and see her, I was just going to bring her some water but if you don’t mind bringing it to her, you can do that for me.” 

He was rambling like… well, like _Felicity_. But William seemed unfazed as he quickly fetched a glass of water and hurried to the master bedroom, knocking softly and pushing the door open when a murmured ‘come in’ met him. Oliver couldn’t help himself and drifted closer, Lyla and John forgotten as he sought to eavesdrop on his wife and son. 

*****

“William!” Felicity’s voice was soft, partly out of fear of waking her sleeping daughter and partly out of sheer exhaustion. Though her labor had been relatively fast - only a few ‘short’ hours according to the midwife - it had been hard. Her body felt well and truly wrung out and she very much doubted she’d ever been this physically drained in her life. 

Birthing a watermelon would do that to you. 

But exhausted or not, she _always_ had energy enough to greet her son; when she’d seen him duck into the room, she hadn’t been able to help but smile as she forced herself to sit up against the pillows.

“Hi Mom.” 

The words would have knocked her on her butt if she hadn’t already been sitting in bed but as it was, Felicity felt as though all the oxygen had fled her lungs the moment she’d heard that sweet, simple, three letter word fall from William’s lips. It landed with weight enough to bowl her over. The import of William calling her ‘Mom’ was not lost on her; this moment alone would have been enough to make her cry on a normal day. But on a day like today, when her hormones and fatigue were running wild with her emotions? 

It was all she could do not to dissolve into tears in front of him. She settled for letting tears build in the corners of her eyes.

Scooting over on the bed with profound care so as not to jostle the infant in her arms, Felicity shifted her daughter to her left arm, ignoring the faint twinge of discomfort that this incurred; her arm had healed from the break it had sustained in Iron Heights following surgery, but every now and then, it would still pinch unpleasantly. Having created space on the outer edge of the bed, Felicity patted it invitingly. 

“Come here, William. There’s someone I want you to meet,” Felicity encouraged him over, keenly aware of the breathy, pitchy quality of her voice as she tried to hold back the tears William had unwittingly brought on. 

He came closer, albeit with some hesitation, staring at the bundle in Felicity’s arms as though it were nuclear. As he slid onto the bed next to her, Felicity could feel William’s excitement and his nerves as if they were a physical, palpable thing. 

“William… this is Mia - your little sister. And Mia… this is your big brother, William,” Felicity introduced the siblings, her heart swelling with love and pride as she did so. She was dimly aware of the fact that Oliver had stolen inside the room just in time to bear witness as brother met sister. Husband and wife briefly locked eyes before they returned their focus to their children and Felicity knew Oliver must be feeling the same impossible explosion of love that she was. She hadn’t thought it was possible to love William more than she did but watching him watching Mia? It made her love for him soar to new heights. William’s heart was a beautiful, beautiful thing to behold.

After a brief overview on how to hold the newborn and a quick once over with the hand sanitizer, William took Mia into his arms with a modicum of awkwardness, looking more than a little ill at ease. And again, Felicity felt that upwelling of love grow exponentially and solidify as she watched William hold Mia. This? This was what she had fought so desperately to come back to. 

_Her family._

“She’s so... _small,”_ William observed, his forefinger stroking his sleeping sister’s cheek lovingly. The sight was enough to positively mesmerize Felicity as she watched her son and daughter spend what she hoped would prove to be the first of many shared moments together. 

And then, Mia started to fuss as she awoke, her little infant hands balling into fists as she screwed her face up and began to wail. As easily as that, the spell between brother and sister was broken and suddenly, Felicity could sense William’s rising panic. 

“Mom. M-Mom. _Mom!”_ William stammered out, panic leaping into his tone as he held his little sister out towards Felicity, eager to pass her off now that she’d started to cry in earnest. 

It took a few long moments for Felicity to process William’s words and the implied begging for assistance; she’d been entirely swept away and utterly gobsmacked by William calling her ‘Mom’ three times in rapid succession. With a deft shake of her head, Felicity snapped herself out of her daze and quickly accepted her infant daughter back from her son, doing her best not to laugh as William’s features smoothed instantly over once Mia was out of his hands. 

“She’s great,” William sighed, casting Felicity a sheepish grin. “I don’t think she likes me though.” 

“Of course she likes you, William. You’re her big brother - she’s going to _love_ you,” Felicity assured him, shifting Mia to one arm so that her free hand could reach out and give William’s hand a comforting squeeze. “After all, I spent the last nine months telling her every day how much _I_ love you. How could she not agree?” 

The joy in William’s answering smile warmed Felicity’s very soul, cementing every decision she and Oliver had made to get to here. The decision to retire. To pursue a normal life. To prioritize their children. To be a _family,_ first and foremost, for the rest of their days. 

What life could possibly be better? 

_Mom._ Of all the jobs she’d ever had, Felicity loved this one best. It was right up there with her other favorite title - _wife_. And thanks to her and Oliver’s decision to lead normal lives by stepping back from Team Arrow? Those were both titles that Felicity would proudly wear for many years (and two children more) to come, though she didn’t know it yet. 

She and Oliver had all the time in the world to be happy together and to grow their family. They’d had their hand in saving the world - now it was their time to enjoy simply living in it. And they would - for many, _many_ years to come. 


End file.
